


Rock You Like a Cyclone

by pamz



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Awkward morning after, Big Quintis Scene, Coerced Sexual Contact, Cute Walter and Ralph Moment, F/F, F/M, Fade to black sex, Female on Female Making Out, Hostile Work Environment, Hot and Heavy Little Waige Moments, Protesters - Freeform, Rioting, Sappy Ending, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, The HEA, Waige Angst, bad language, gunshot wound, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 61,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8119141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamz/pseuds/pamz
Summary: AU set sometime during Season 3.  The team gets a case involving a Russian rock band touring the US suspected of buying weapons to arm a rebel uprising.  Walter and Happy go undercover as roadies, Paige as a backup singer, while Toby, Sylvester, and Cabe babysit Ralph.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is set sometime during Season 3, after Walter screws up big time in Tahoe, Tim goes back to the SEALS, and Happy and Toby are trying to cope with her being married.
> 
> I've been sitting on this story for several months, wondering if I should wait until I finish "Aftershocks" or until Season 3 starts airing or both. I've decided I'm going to go ahead and start posting. I probably won't update as regularly as I do "Aftershocks", but I'll try.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Scorpion fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of K/O Paper Products, Blackjack Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment, SB Films, CBS Television Studios, or anyone else.

"Where's Happy?" asked Paige as Toby strolled into the garage a few minutes after nine in the morning. "I need her to finish her report of our last case. I need you to finish yours, too."

"She's not here?" The shrink glanced around. 

"No. You guys didn't ride to work together?"

"Not today. You do know we're not joined at the hip, right?"

"So she still won't tell you who she's married to?" asked Sylvester, who was performing his morning desk cleaning ritual.

"No," Toby said, adjusting his hat. "I'm beginning to wonder if the guy even exists." 

"What was that?"

Toby spun around as Happy walked through the door. "Nothing, sweetie pie."

"Bull. He exists," she said. "Call me sweetie pie one more time and you might not." She walked over to her work bench, tossing her bag aside before picking up a hammer and started beating on a piece of metal.

"I thought everything was good between you two," said Paige, flinching at a particularly loud clang. 

"Some days are better than others," he said. "Today is one of the others." He glanced up at the liaison. "At least we're working on our problems, unlike you and. . ."

"Yes, well, okay, get your report back to me as soon as possible," she said in a rush before pivoting and going back over to her desk. 

Toby flapped his arms and made chicken noises in her direction, which she tried to ignore. Walter came down the stairs then, stopping about half way down. 

"What's with all the racket?" he called out over the din. The garage instantly quieted as both Toby and Happy quit what they were doing. "That's better." Walter then made his way to Paige's desk.

"Why are we still getting invoices from the Treasury Department?" he asked, handing her several pieces of paper. "I thought I said to get Homeland to take care of it?"

"And Homeland says it's the Treasury's problem," Paige said, snatching the papers from him. "I don't know why it matters who's to blame, the money's coming out of the same place."

"Yeah, my pocket," sneered Toby. 

"Did you ever pay all your back taxes?" Sly asked. The psychiatrist glared the younger man, who wisely went back to his cleaning.

"Well, it needs to be taken care of." Walter ran his hand through his hair. "It's been four months."

"I'll figure it out," she said with a sigh.

"Well, whatever it is, you'd better figure it out fast," announced Cabe as he strode into the garage, accompanied by another man. "This is Agent Fitzsimmons from ATF. He needs our help finding out who's sending large shipments of guns out of the country."

The team gathered around to hear what the man had to say. "We had two operatives posing as roadies for Zhalo, a Russian band that's been touring the US. In every city they've stopped, dozens of guns are being purchased using fake names," Fitzsimmons said. "We still don't know if it's just one person using multiple identities or several people associated with the band in on the transactions."

"What happened to the agents who were undercover?" asked Paige. 

"They got busted for drugs in Dallas, along with one of the band's backup singers," said the agent. "We suspect their cover was blown and the drugs were planted on them to get rid of them. The girl wasn't one of ours, we think she was just unlucky."

"So whoever is doing this is drawing the line at murder," Toby pointed out. "Or else the agents were addicts already. What?" he added when everyone stared at him. "Just stating all the possibilities."

"Most of the entourage is from the Russian republic of Samatov," Cabe said. "There's been rumblings there of breaking away from Russia. We think these arms are going to there to start a rebellion."

"Your agents didn't learn anything?" asked Walter, crossing his arms over his chest. Fitzsimmons shook his head. "Why do you think we'll succeed where they failed? We're geniuses, not spies."

"They didn't fit in," said the ATF agent. "Older, ex-military, they stood out like sore thumbs. I told my supervisor they weren't the right type. . . He's finally taking my advice."

"Yeah, we appreciate you think we're cool and all," Happy said with a smirk. "But Walter's right. We're not spies."

"We need people who can fit in and who have the tech skills to catch whoever's behind this." Fitzsimmons glanced around the room. "You guys fill the bill."

Cabe stepped forward then. "Walter and Happy, you two have already been hired to replaced the two agents. And since there's an opening for a backup singer. . ."

Everyone looked at Paige. "Oh, no," she said, and Walter could hear a hint of panic in her voice. "No. I don't sing anymore. . ."

"You sang that duet with Walter in Bahari," Toby argued. "And we all know who carried the tune on that little bit of distraction." He smiled smugly at Walter, who rolled his eyes at the shrink's insult. 

"You do have a lovely voice," said Sylvester. 

"That's beside the point." She wrapped her arms around her waist. "I don't sing in public."

"We need someone inside the band itself, we didn't have that before," said Fitzsimmons. "A roadie can only hang out where they don't belong for so long before it becomes suspicious. This might be the only way to break this case."

"What about Ralph?" she asked. "Who's going to take care of my son while I'm gone for who knows how long? I just can't abandon him. . ."

"We can take care of him," Sly volunteered. "Me and Toby."

"Oh, God." Paige buried her face in her hands. Walter saw she was shaking. He wanted so badly to put his arms around her and tell her everything would be all right. But he'd blown any chance of doing that by his behavior in Tahoe. 

"Doesn't he have that science day camp next week?" he said, hoping to make her feel better. "He probably won't even notice you're gone."

Paige let out a small cry. "Not helping, 197," Toby said.

"I'll help keep an eye on him too," Cabe said. "The band is in Phoenix right now, preparing for a show tomorrow night. After that, they're on to San Diego and then Los Angeles for a concert a week from today. Maybe we'll have it all wrapped up by then."

"If Paige doesn't want to go, I can take her place," said Toby. 

"Doing what exactly?" Walter had a good idea why the psychiatrist wanted to come along. Toby and Happy might be together, but even with his low EQ he could tell they were struggling. Her refusal to say anything about her marriage made the already tense situation between them even worse.

"I could profile everyone. Narrow down the possible gun smuggler or smugglers."

"All the backup singers are female, I don't think you qualify," said the ATF agent as he scrutinized the shrink. "Can you play an instrument?"

"Does my armpit count?"

"No, it does not." growled Cabe. "How are your hacking skills?"

"Fair to middling."

"We'd be better off sending Sylvester," said the Homeland agent. "And no offense, kid, but. . ."

"None taken. I realize I'm not cool enough." The human calculator pushed up his glasses. "Unlike some people." He shot Toby a look.

"Fine, I'll do it," said Paige grudgingly. "When do we leave? I'd like to see my son before we go."

"Flight leaves this afternoon for Phoenix at four. Plenty of time to pack and say your goodbyes." Cabe turned to Walter and Happy. "You two can study up on what your duties will entail. Happy, you're going to be working with pyrotechnics and Walter, you're a sound technician."

"Cool." Happy smiled, no doubt excited at the prospect of playing with fireworks.

Fitzsimmons handed a thumb drive to Paige. "This has all the band's songs on it. You can familiarize yourself with them so you can be prepared for your audition tonight."

"Audition? I have to audition?" Walter watched as her face paled. 

"Yes, but it will just be a formality. We're going to rig it so you're the clear favorite." 

"Oh, God." Paige sat down in the nearest chair. Audition. The word alone made her want to throw up. It had been so long. . .not since she found out she was pregnant with Ralph. She'd tried out for a few bands, the spots always going to other girls with bigger breasts or who had exchanged their bodies for the opportunity to sing. 

"You don't have to do this." She glanced up sharply at the softly spoken words. Walter was standing next to her, his body taut, as if he was getting ready to flee. "Not if it makes you uncomfortable."

Looking around, she noticed the team had split up into groups. Cabe and Agent Fitzsimmons were speaking with Sylvester. Toby and Happy were having an earnest conversation near her work bench. She got to her feet.

"You heard what he said, they need someone inside the band." Paige shook her head. "I hate the idea of another war, of innocent women and children being killed for someone else's ideals. If I can help stop that. . .despite how uncomfortable I may feel, I will. For the greater good."

"The greater good," he echoed. Frowning, he added, "Still. . ."

Paige sighed. "Walter, if you don't want me to go on this case with you, just say it." She stared at him. "I don't want there to be any misunderstanding between us."

Walter flinched at her harsh tone. He deserved it though. He'd been such an idiot in Tahoe, rushing all the way there in the middle of the night, only to serve up a lame excuse when he saw her and Tim kissing as they stood on the balcony of their hotel room. The words he'd been practicing to say to her had just blistered on his tongue like acid. 

"I want you on this case," he said. "I just don't want you to feel obligated."

"I don't." She stepped closer. "Look, I need to go tell Ralph and pack for the both of us. I'll be back before we need to leave for the airport."

"Okay." He moved back, allowing her to pass in front of him. The scent of lavender assailed his senses and he had to close his eyes. 

"She gonna be okay with this?" Cabe's voice shook him from his thoughts.

"She says she is." Walter shrugged. 

"Well, I hope so," said the Homeland agent. He clapped Walter on the shoulder. "She'll come around, son."

"I don't know what you mean."

The older man laughed. "Yes, you do. Now that Tim's out of the picture. . ."

"He's been out of the picture for two months."

"And you haven't done anything to put yourself back in," said Cabe. "Listen, I shouldn't be telling you this, but he told me he knew she wasn't serious about him. He always had the feeling she went out with him because of you and that girl. . ."

"Linda."

"Yeah, her. That was never serious either, was it?"

"No." It had been a disaster from start to finish, destroying any trust Paige ever had in him. In his effort not to lose her, he'd done exactly that. He'd been such a moron.

"Maybe you should use this opportunity to make a move," suggested the agent. "Away from the prying eyes of certain team members." He nodded his head toward Toby. 

"Maybe." Walter ran his hand through his hair. 

"Just don't blow it this time. Between you and Paige, and Toby and Happy," Cabe said, "I don't know who's more miserable. And it's making the rest of us miserable."

With that, he went back to speak with the ATF agent. Walter frowned. Cabe was right. He was miserable. They all were. But he didn't know if he could win back Paige's trust anymore than Happy could earn back Toby's. 

With a sigh, he walked back over to his desk, flipping on his computer to see just what a sound technician for a Russian rock band needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the band, Zhalo, is pronounced shzal-la. Or at least that's what it sounded like to me on Google Translate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit overwhelmed by the response to this story. Now I feel bad I haven't updated for so long. Thanks for the kudos and hits, and also for your patience.

Paige returned to the garage a little after one, bringing Ralph, two suitcases, and a bag of groceries. "We didn't talk about it before," she said as she took the food into the kitchen, "but I assume Ralph will be staying here while you guys keep an eye on him?"

"That would be correct," Toby chimed in as Cabe and Sly nodded. "Your mom fill you in, pal?" 

"Yes," said the boy genius. "I told her not to worry, I'd probably be taking care of all of you before she gets back."

"I don't find that very reassuring, Ralph," Paige stated as she stocked the refrigerator. 

"Hey, buddy," Walter said as he came down the stairs carrying his duffel bag. 

"Hey, Walter." The boy rushed over to the older man, and they fist bumped. Paige watched Walter lower himself down to her son's level as the two of them talked eagerly. Then Ralph whispered something into the older man's ear before throwing his arms around Walter's neck. The genius's face turned red, leaving Paige to wonder whether it was the whisper or the hug causing him to blush. 

With a shake of her head, she reached into her purse and took out a sheath of papers. "This is a list of instructions for taking care of Ralph," she announced, handing it to Toby. "I want them followed down to the letter."

"We've taken care of him before," Sylvester pointed out. 

"Just for one night." She crossed her arms over her chest. "This is going to be for a week or more. It's not that I don't trust you guys. . ."

The shrink waved the pages in the air. "This manifesto says otherwise," he commented, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Make sure he brushes his teeth. . . Make sure he eats. . ." He passed the printout over to Cabe. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not idiots."

"No, but you're geniuses, and I know you'll deny it, but you all have a tendency to get lost in your own little worlds and forget about details like dental hygiene and nutrition. And Ralph is no exception."

Cabe was leafing through the pages of paper. "Don't worry, kiddo," he reassured her. "I'll keep these knuckleheads in line."

"Thank you." Paige smiled at the older man as he handed the instructions to Sly.

"We'd better head out," the agent said. "You guys are flying commercial. And you're going to have to go through the TSA line."

"Can't you just flash us through?" asked Happy. "I've got some things in my carry-on that. . ."

"Not this time. I'm just dropping you off. The less you're seen with law enforcement, the less likely your cover will be blown."

"Damn." The mechanic started to open up her duffel.

"No time for that," growled Cabe. "We need to leave now. Do it in the car." Happy re-zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder before heading for the door. Toby chased after her.

Paige knelt down to hug Ralph. "Listen to Toby, Sly, and Cabe," she said, kissing his forehead as he squirmed. "Just don't listen to everything they say, okay?"

"Mom, I can handle this."

"Yes, I know you can,"she stated as her eyes teared up, unsure if she'd be able to bear being away from her son for so long. "I'll call when I have a chance. I love you."

"Bye, Mom." The boy wiggled out of her embrace before racing over to her desk where he had set up his laptop.

"He will miss you." Paige spun around to see Walter standing behind her, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't like it much either when my mother made a fuss over me when I was his age." 

"I know. It's just. . ." She wasn't going to see him for at least a week and Ralph acted like he didn't care. He had never been a hugger, although he had improved since meeting Walter and the rest of the team. She shrugged as she blinked back tears. "We'd better go."

"Okay." Walter picked up his bag, then reached for her suitcase at the same time she did, and their hands collided. His eyes met hers and her heart started beating faster and her breathing grew shallow at the accidental contact. 

Paige snatched her hand back, allowing Walter to carry her luggage out of the garage as she followed him out the door.

_____

After stashing their belongings in the cargo space, Paige and Happy climbed into the backseat of Cabe's SUV as Walter got in the front passenger seat. "Ugh," said Paige as she buckled herself in. "Why does it smell like cigarettes in here? You haven't taken up smoking, have you Cabe?"

"I'll have you know I quit over twenty-five years ago," the agent announced proudly as he backed out of the parking space and turned out into the street.

Walter glanced over his shoulder at Happy, who glared menacingly at him. She had smoked from time to time when he'd first met her. Usually when she was stressed or angry, which had been most of the time back then. Her now strained relationship with Toby must have caused her to seek solace in her old habit.

She was an adult, capable of making her own decisions, whether he approved of them or not. With a slight nod, he conveyed he would keep another secret for her. . .for now anyway. 

Over an hour later, Cabe pulled up to the curb to the LAX drop-off area. "Okay, kids," he said as they clambered out of the vehicle to collect their gear. "You should probably split up once you get inside. Easier to maintain your cover."

"Okay." "Goodbye, Cabe." Happy and Paige took off, heading into the terminal.

"Hey, Walter, hold up," the agent called through the open passenger side window. When the genius came back to the car, he added, "Son, I want you to keep an eye on Paige and Happy."

"Isn't that a bit sexist?" Walter frowned. "Happy would kick your ass for even suggesting it."

"Listen, I did some moonlighting working security for concerts back in the ‘80's," Gallo began, "and I've seen what goes on backstage and I doubt it's changed that much in thirty years. Yeah, it might be a bit sexist, but are you willing to let either of them get into a situation where they could be taken advantage of?"

"No." Walter ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Okay."

"Good. And remember what I said about putting yourself back into the picture."

Walter nodded. "Sure. See you later," he said as he turned to go.

"So long. . . And good luck." Cabe shook his head. "Boy, are you going to need it."

_____

Happy had found a spot in a far corner of the waiting area by the time Walter had reached their gate. Selecting a seat a couple of yards away from where Paige was sitting, Walter kept sneaking glances at her as they waited for their departure to be called.

She had put in a pair of ear buds and was lip syncing to what he imagined were song lyrics from the thumb drive the ATF agent had given her. He became fascinated watching her mouth and tongue move as they shaped sounds and words, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as the thought of them doing other things filled his mind.

Something banged into the back of his head, and he twisted around to see Happy standing behind him, her eyes trained forward. "They're calling our flight, moron," she whispered out of the side of her mouth. "And you might want to wipe that drool off your chin." With a shake of her head, she sauntered over to get in line.

Walter unconsciously touched his hand to his face as he watched as Paige put away her headphones before standing up. Flipping her hair, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled before going to join the rest of the boarding passengers. 

His mouth went dry and his heart beat even faster as he got to his feet. Was she flirting with him? He remembered her doing something similar with her hair when she'd tried to teach him to flirt when he had to go undercover before. Maybe Cabe was right. Maybe it was time to put himself ‘back in the picture.' Even Ralph had told him to ‘go for it' before he'd left the garage. 

Only he had no idea how to go about doing so. He'd screwed up so badly. Switching the reservations, shutting down the restaurant, telling her to take Tim in the first place. . . He'd been stupid and childish, and as a result, he'd lost her to another man. He had no idea how far her relationship with the former trainee had gone, if they'd. . .had intercourse or not. He tried to lie to himself and say it didn't matter, but. . . But it did. And the worst part was it was all his fault. He'd practically pushed her into Tim's bed. It made him sick just to think about it.

Going through the motions of getting on the plane, he found his seat then stuffed his duffel into the overhead compartment before sitting down. Searching his immediate vicinity, he spotted Happy slouched near the window across the aisle in the row ahead of his. Paige was three rows ahead of him, helping an elderly woman stow her carry-on bag before taking her seat.

Walter stared at the back of her head, paying scant attention to the flight attendant's safety lecture before the plane finally took off.

_____

Paige was reunited with Walter and Happy on the shuttle ride to the hotel where the band was staying. They were greeted in the lobby by a short, middle-aged man who was dressed in what looked like a leisure suit from the ‘70's.

"Hello, hello," he said in accented English as he shook their hands. "I am manager, Ivan Darbinian, please call me Darby. Walter and. . .uh, Happy?" 

"Yes." The mechanic stared challengingly at the man. Paige bit her lip, it was a fifty-fifty chance Happy would take exception to any comments about her unusual name.

"Okay, right." Darby pointed to a bus parked outside the building's front door. "Roadies sleep on bus tonight at venue, after equipment is set up, yes?"

"Sure," Happy said as Walter nodded.

The manager then turned to Paige. "And you are. . .?" He looked her up and down in a manner that wasn't leering, but disturbing nonetheless. "You not roadie," he decided.

Paige pasted a pleasant smile on her face. "No," she agreed. "I'm here to audition."

"Yes, yes." He pointed down a hallway. "Room 120. Conference room." He flipped his wrist to look at his watch. "Half an hour. Not many girls showing up." He pointed to Walter and Happy. "You two can stay and watch if you want." 

Paige's stomach roiled as her nerves got the better of her as she and the others followed Darby down the hall. 

"Hey, you'll do fine," Walter said quietly as he walked beside her. "I'd say good luck, but I don't. . .

"Believe in it. I know." She smiled before inhaling deeply. "Thanks."

"You're going to blow them away, Dineen," Happy said unexpectedly. "I. . ."

Whatever she'd been about to say was cut off as they reached the designated room. Inside were four women, all looking about five to ten years younger than she was, dressed in fashionable and revealing clothing. Paige glanced down at the wrinkled shirt and slacks she'd been wearing all day.

"Uh. . .Darby?" She turned to the manager. "Is there somewhere I can freshen up?"

"Sure, sure. Restroom, across hall." He pointed out the door. "Hurry though. We not wait for you."

"Thank you." 

Walter watched as Paige left the room, hoping she hadn't changed her mind about their mission. He started to follow her, but staggered to a halt when Happy grabbed his arm.

"She'll be all right," she said through gritted teeth. "Come on, let's go sit in the back." The mechanic let go of him as they wandered to the back of the room. 

Walter sat down, leaning his head against the wall as he tipped his chair. Closing his eyes, his mind immediately drifted to Paige and what he needed to do to win her back.

"Hot damn." His eyes popped open and his chair landed back on all four legs with a thunk when he heard Happy's muttered curse.

Another woman had entered the conference room, attired in black leggings that clung to her long shapely legs and a midriff baring top of the same color. A spangly scarf was wrapped around her neck and some of her honey color hair was pulled back into an asymmetrical ponytail. She had her back to him as she walked up to the manager, her hips swaying hypnotically.

Since meeting Paige, Walter had, on occasion, found other women attractive, although they could never compare to the liaison. This woman, however. . . He squirmed awkwardly in his chair.

Then she turned around.

"Hoh boy," he murmured as Paige smiled across the room at him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where I'm going to start really breaking away from canon. No green card marriage and definitely no pregnancy in this fic. I haven't figured out who Happy will be married to, but it probably won't be Walter. I may just leave it as a loose end. We'll see.

Walter lifted his duffel bag off the floor and onto his lap. A move made mostly to restrain himself from whisking Paige away somewhere so no one else could see her, but also to hide the effect her new outfit had on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Happy smirking at him across the empty chair between them.

Several men wandered into the room. Three of them, including a tall man with long blond hair, approached the manager. The rest headed to where Walter and Happy were seated. 

One of the guys sat down between them. "Hey, you guys the new roadies?" 

"Uh, yeah," Walter replied as Happy grunted. 

"These chicks are pretty hot, eh?" The man elbowed Walter's upper arm.

"Uh, yeah." He surreptitiously scooted a few inches away before staring at Paige again. She was sitting in the front row, nervously fidgeting.

Darby walked to the front of the room, holding a clipboard, waved his free hand as the other men sat down. "Okay, let's get started," he announced. One by one, the manager read out a name and one of the women would get up and sing. 

He was no musical expert, but in his opinion, the first two singers were mediocre at best. The third one had a good vocal range, but Walter didn't think she was better than Paige. He'd only heard the liaison sing twice before, but both those occasions were burned into his brain in amazing detail. 

His breathing grew harsh when Paige's name was finally called out. She stood up and took her place behind the microphone. He could tell her face was pale underneath the heavier-than-normal make-up she wore and she was visibly shaking.

The tall blond man said something to the other men sitting on either side before shouting, "Come on, sweetheart, show us what you've got."

"Yeah, besides a smokin' hot bod," one of the others said.

By the expression on her face, Walter thought either Paige was going to be sick or run out of the room, perhaps both. She surprised him, though, when she opened her mouth and started singing. 

At first, he was mesmerized by her voice, but then the lyrics penetrated his brain.

" . . . _every time you need me_. . . _all my buttons come undone_ ," she sang, smiling the flirtatious grin she'd flashed him at the airport before continuing. 

_"You make me lick my lips_

_You're my favorite flavor_

_When we kiss I just wanna savor_

_Every drop of it, I can't get enough_

_You make me lick my lips, my lips."_

All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room as he gasped for breath and his heart began to pound. Glad his duffel still rested across his lap, he watched in fascination as she ran her pink tongue over her red lips as she stared right at him. Even on the verge of embarrassing himself in a room full of strangers, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her performance. 

Just when he thought he had reached his breaking point, Paige finished singing, giving the audience a little bow before returning to her chair. The manager motioned for the woman who hadn't yet auditioned to come join him and the trio of men as they stepped out into the hallway.

Walter glanced over at Happy, who grinned back at him. Oh great, she'd no doubt noticed the effect Paige's singing had on him. Was still having an effect, he thought as he shifted painfully in his chair. 

Her stomach churning, Paige tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Darby and the others whom she guessed were members of the band to come back with their decision. She seriously doubted she'd get the job, no matter how much Cabe and Fitzsimmons had reassured her the audition would be rigged in her favor.

The others vying for the spot were so much younger than she was. At least one of them could sing as well or better than she did. But then it had been hard to do her best when she'd felt like she was on the verge of vomiting the whole time. The butterflies had only disappeared, allowing her to turn in a halfway decent audition, after she had focused all her attention on Walter. 

She wanted to take Ray's advice, realizing the former firefighter was right. She needed to go to Walter. He would never make the first move now, not after what she'd said to him after what he'd done in Tahoe. And especially since he thought she'd picked Tim over him, not comprehending he'd helped push her into the former SEAL's arms. 

But she was scared, too. She didn't think she could bear being rejected by him yet again. Her history of being attracted to men who wouldn't or couldn't put her first was a pattern she needed to break. She didn't know if she could handle another one-sided relationship, where she was shoved to the side at the first opportunity. Like Drew with baseball, Tim with his military career, Walter with Scorpion. . . 

"Miss Dineen?" Darby's voice, mispronouncing her last name so it sounded like it ‘dine in', interrupted her wayward thoughts. 

"Yes?" Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the bad news.

"You get job." The manager smiled broadly. "This is Yuri, leader singer," he said, indicating the tall blond man she'd noticed earlier. She was so overwhelmed, she didn't catch the names of the drummer and the bass player when Darby introduced the two men. 

She'd won the audition. She'd gotten the job. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw both Walter and Happy were smiling at her.

"This is Anya, she is backup singer like you." The other woman was dressed like a stereotypical Emo Goth, with a short black bob haircut, black leather studded choker, and all black clothing. 

"Hey," the woman said, snapping her gum.

"We all go to dinner now," said Darby. "Then over to venue to set up and rehearse."

Yuri threw his arm around Paige's shoulders. "Come with me, baby, you can eat me. Oh, sorry, I mean eat with me." His deliberate mangling of the language was obvious, as he winked at the bass player as he said it. 

Sneaking a peek toward the back of the room, she noticed Walter had risen to his feet before being knocked back into his chair by Happy as she passed in front of him in what Paige realized was not an accidental move. Sighing, she knew she was going to have to have a conversation with him about keeping his temper in check before he blew their whole operation. And probably sooner than later as Yuri slipped his arm off her back, his hand grazing her ass on the way down. 

Not daring to turn around, she just smiled at the singer. "Okay, sure. I'm starving," she smiled, pretending to misunderstand his insinuation. God, she hoped they caught the arms smuggler soon. She didn't know how long she could keep up the charade of being a ditzy starlet. She'd just begun and was already tired of it.

But then she thought of all the women and children whose lives she would hopefully save and sighed. "For the greater good," she murmured under her breath as she followed the others out of the conference room.

_____

"Hey, Zalina." Anya was unnecessarily (in Paige's opinion anyway) adding more eyeliner as she stood in front of their dressing room mirror when another woman waltzed into the room. "Where have you been?"

"Hey, bitch." Zalina, a tall blonde with breasts that even impressed Paige, threw her bag onto the counter next to the other woman. "Out. Who's this?"

"Paige. She's the new backup singer."

"Hello." Reaching out her hand, Paige immediately snatched it back when the other woman curled her lip.

"Hey." The blonde looked the liaison up and down, a sneer on her beautiful face.

"Guess what else? Two new roadies," said Anya excitedly. "One for each of us. The girl's a real cutie, just my type."

"Good for you," Zalina replied. "What about the guy? Does he have a nice ass?"

Paige's eyes widened. Oh, dear, she had no idea if Happy would even be interested. She was with Toby now anyway. True, their relationship was rocky but. . . But obviously fidelity was something the mechanic didn't seem to care much about, since she had been cheating on a husband with Toby. 

And, oh, God. . .Walter. Glancing at Zalina, she looked past the other woman's stunning looks which seemed to conceal a heartless interior. She'd chew up the socially awkward genius and spit him out, not caring how her cruelness would affect him once she'd gotten what she wanted. He'd be devastated. She needed to warn both of them of her fellow singers' intentions.

"He's got dark curly hair, tall, but not as tall as Yuri," Anya replied. "I didn't get a good look at his butt. You'll have to check it out for yourself."

"Don't worry, I will." Zalina opened a compact and dusted some powder on her nose. "What color are his eyes?"

"They're brown." Without thinking, Paige answered a little breathlessly, "a dark, deep, chocolate brown."

Both women stopped applying makeup to stare at her. "How you know this?" Zalina asked.

"Oh, uh. . .Darby introduced me to them when he was showing me around earlier." Damn, she'd almost slipped up, blowing their cover. And all over Walter's eyes. The ones that revealed the emotions he claimed he didn't have. The ones in which she'd found herself drowning in their dark brown depths on more than one occasion. 

The dressing room door flew open, shaking Paige from her disturbing thoughts. "Hey, ladies," drawled Yuri as he strode inside. "Are you making yourselves all pretty for me?"

"Kiss my ass," snapped Zalina, throwing a wadded up tissue at him.

"Already have," he fired back. "But I'll do it again. . ." He pretended to lunge for the blonde, who aimed her foot at his crotch, missing by a few inches. Although Paige wasn't sure how. The band's leader was wearing skin tight black leather pants which displayed a bulge that had to be anatomically impossible.

The other three bantered back and forth, swapping insults and innuendo, while Paige tried to ignore them. Her dinner wasn't settling well, her head was starting to ache, and she missed her son. Pushing aside her own problems, she wondered how Walter and Happy were dealing with their new jobs.

_____

"What the hell did you do?"

Walter looked up from the amplifier he was modifying. "I fixed the audio feedback. It was distorting the sound."

"But that's how we want it." The head roadie, a man named Akim, shook his head. Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "You're in trouble now, noob."

The tall blond man who had been molesting Paige earlier approached, snarling. "Dammit, Akim, did we blow another amp? That sounded like shit."

Frowning, Walter thought it had been much better than before, although the screeching had drowned out the appalling lyrics the band had been singing.

"This idiot screwed with it, Yuri," Akim said, pointing at Walter. "First day on job, all ready fucking up."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically. "I didn't know." 

"Yeah, well, don't fuck up again, noob." Yuri sneered at him. "Get it fixed. Now!"

The singer then stormed off, leaving a confused Walter in his wake. He glanced around, seeing the disgusted expressions on the other roadies' faces. Happy, who was setting up flash pots on the other side of the stage, even rolled her eyes at him.

With a sigh, he crouched down behind the amp, and started to undo all his hard work, hoping they would catch the arms smuggler soon. He didn't know how long he could endure the horrific noise the band called music. His head hurt, his ears were ringing. . . Sighing, he thought of all the lives they were saving. "For the greater good," he muttered as he twisted two wires together. He did have one question though.

What the hell was a ‘noob'?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics (as probably most of you know) are from the Katharine McPhee song, "Lick My Lips", written by Isabella Summers, Marcus Miller, Sam Sparro, and Luther Vandross. Used without permission but please don't sue me, I just wanted to torture Walter a little and this song seemed like the perfect way to do it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry about taking so long to update this story too. Same excuses, blah, blah, blah. . . Hopefully remaining chapters will be posted in a more timely fashion. Thanks for sticking with this fic and me. 
> 
> And oh yeah, totally diverting from canon, especially about Happy's marriage.

"Ugh," said Ralph, rubbing his hands on his stomach. "I didn't know I could eat that much pizza." He and his three babysitters were sitting around the kitchen table stacked high with pizza boxes.

"Five slices." Toby reached out to give the boy a fist bump. "Pretty good for a scorpling in training. You'll never beat Cabe though."

Cabe tapped his chest with his fist then belched. "Ten and I'm not even hungry."

"You are all disgusting." Sylvester used a knife and fork to cut a piece off his slice. "At least say ‘excuse me'."

Grinning mischievously, the agent burped out, "excuse me."

"Whoa, that's cool," Ralph said. "There's a kid in my class that can burp his name."

"I used to be able to do the whole alphabet," bragged Toby. "Been awhile since that skill's come in handy."

"When would something like that ever come in handy?" Sly sounded both perplexed and appalled.

"When you're trying to impress girls," said Cabe. "Impressed the hell outta Sarah Wright when I was in grade school. Gave me a kiss behind the gymnasium at recess." He smiled fondly at the memory.

"You people are animals." The human calculator picked up his plate and silverware, carrying it over to the sink. Sitting back down, he pulled Paige's instructions out of his pocket. "It says here Ralph is supposed to start getting ready for bed at eight thirty. It's already past nine."

Toby nicked the thick sheath of papers from Sylvester. "Rules, schmules," he announced as he tried to tear it in half before giving up. "So he stays up a little late one night. We're celebrating our freedom."

"Freedom from what?" asked Ralph. His tummy felt funny, like if he moved too fast, he might explode. He'd like to be free of that feeling.

"Authority." The shrink knocked back the remainder of his bottle of beer before smacking it down on the table. "No moms, no bosses, no girlfriends. . . We can do whatever we want."

"I don't think that's a good idea." The boy genius shook his head. "My mom's going to get mad if we don't follow her rules."

"And Happy's gonna kick your ass," Cabe pointed out. 

"Let her," said the psychiatrist defiantly. "At least she'd be touching me again."

"Eww, I did not need to know that." Sly stood up, snatching the slightly torn list of rules away from Toby. Flipping through it, he pointed at a paragraph. "Ralph needs to brush his teeth and wash his face and uh, use the toilet before changing into his pajamas. Then he gets half an hour to read or play video games. Lights out at nine thirty."

"It's already quarter after," said Cabe, looking at his watch. "I agree with the doc. Let the kid stay up one night. It's not going to kill him."

"But what if Paige calls?" Sylvester asked worriedly. "I can't lie to her."

"I can." Toby pushed back his chair. "Just let me talk to her. Ralph's okay with it, aren't you pal?"

"Sure." The boy glanced from the shrink and the agent. "So, is someone going to teach me how to burp my name?"

"Okay. First take a big gulp of your root beer," Toby instructed. "The carbonation helps expel the carbon dioxide from your digestive tract." He popped the cap off another bottle of beer, took a large swig, then belched out both his first and last names.

Ralph nodded then downed a big gulp of his soda. When he opened his mouth, instead of burping, his stomach heaved, and he threw up.

Sylvester shrieked as he unsuccessfully tried to jump out of the way. Toby and Cabe both burst out into hysterical laughter. Ralph felt a lot better, even though he was covered in his own sick. 

"Upstairs and into the shower, buddy," said Toby between guffaws. "Then Mother Dodd is right, bedtime."

Ralph started walking toward the staircase before pausing. "You'll still teach me how, won't you?"

"Sure thing, kiddo," Cabe replied. "Maybe when you're not so full of pizza."

"Awesome." The boy ran up the stairs.

"Oh, God, oh, God. . ." Sly was staring down at his legs and feet, his hand clutching his own belly. 

"Looks like Ralph ralphed all over your shoes," Toby announced, still shaking with laughter. 

"You are disgusting." Sylvester gingerly made his way over to the staircase. As he stepped on the first stair, the phone rang. He glanced at it then at the shrink and Cabe. 

"Don't even. . ." Toby began, eyeing the distance between the phone and the other man. Sly was closer but he was faster. The second ring was like a starter's gun, causing both men to make a dash for the handset on Walter's desk.

_____

"Hey, new chick, get over here."

Paige spun around, pressing end call on her phone. She wanted to talk to her son before he went to bed but evidently Yuri and the rest of the band had other ideas.

"Paige, my name is Paige," she muttered under her breath as she walked back out onto the stage.

"Hey babe, you girls need to go over that last song one more time," said the lead singer. "Somebody screwed up the lyrics." He glared at her accusingly. 

"Sure, okay," she agreed, smiling falsely. Inside, she was fuming. Zalina and Anya had both messed up, no doubt deliberately so she would get in trouble. She caught them exchanging catty glances, which only confirmed her suspicions.

"Party in my room back at the hotel," Yuri announced. "Maybe there'll a piece of me left when you chicks get there."

He and the rest of the band took off, discussing buying something. Were they talking about guns? Straining to hear more of the conversation, disappointment filled her when she heard the words dope and pills. It sounded they were after drugs, not guns. 

"Hey bitch, if you're done spacing out," sneered Zalina. "Let's get this over with. I got things to do tonight."

"Yeah, like Yuri," Anya said. Zalina flipped her off.

Paige just rolled her eyes as she imagined slapping her fellow singers silly. Instead, she took her place next to them.

"You need to wiggle your ass more," suggested Anya, demonstrating by bumping her hip against Paige's. "You're like a robot."

She had to bite her lip to keep from replying. No one had ever accused her of being a robot before. She found she didn't like the comparison and wonder if Walter and Happy felt the same way. They probably did.

"Okay, from the top," said Zalina. "1. . .2. . .3. . ."

_____

After having fixed the amps then assisting in setting up the rest of the sound system, Walter wandered over to where the women were rehearsing. Standing in the shadows just off stage, he immediately sought out Paige. Closing his eyes, he let the music flow through him, until everything faded away. Everything but Paige's voice.

She sounded beautiful, and when he opened his eyes again, she was smiling as if she was having fun. He watched as she swayed rhythmically, her hips moving from side to side in a sexually hypnotic way, causing lust to spiral through his body before settling in an extremely embarrassing area.

It took him several moments to realize the women had stopped singing and were gathering up their belongings. Not wanting Paige to catch him staring at her, especially considering his state of arousal, he spun on his heel. 

Unfortunately his foot became tangled in an electrical cord and he stumbled into an offstage amplifier. Swearing softly, he managed to keep himself from falling flat on his face by grabbing a nearby pillar. But forward momentum caused the amp to tip over, banging loudly onto the floor.

Bringing his head up, he saw all three women gaping at him. His whole body grew hot as he started to back away before twirling around and darting out of sight. He then slowed, not wanting to trip over anything else. 

Pushing open a side door, he paused to gulp down the cool night air. Dammit. Now she was going to think he was stalking her. Okay, he kind of was, but. . .but not like that. He just couldn't seem to stay away from her. Maybe he was becoming like Toby with all his addictions, except his addiction was Paige. 

Shaking his head as if to clear it from his foolish thoughts, he glanced around, looking for the bus that was to be his home for the next week or so. He spotted it parked next to the far corner of the venue and headed toward it.

As soon as Walter stepped foot inside, he wished he hadn't. The air in the enclosed vehicle was thick with smoke, both from cigarettes and what he guessed was marijuana. It tickled the back of his throat and he hacked out a cough. 

When he looked up, everyone was staring at him like he'd done something wrong. Then someone yanked on his arm, jerking him down into the nearest seat.

A grim faced Happy sat across from him, a cigarette hanging from her lips. "Shit, O'Brien, why can't you at least act cool?"

"This smoke is obnoxious," he replied, "and toxic and probably illegal."

The mechanic rolled her eyes. "I swear. . . Quit being such a stuffed shirt with a pole rammed up your ass. Half the guys already think you're a narc." She took a drag then blew out a cloud of smoke in his direction. He waved it away.

"Listen, you're going to blow it. Just do what you're told and keep your genius mouth shut," she advised. "Can you do that?"

Walter nodded, if for no other reason to get her to quit nagging him. "I take it Toby doesn't know about this," he asked, changing the subject as he pointed at her cigarette.

"No, and if you tell him. . ." Happy began.

"You'll kill me and no one will ever find my body." They both chuckled as she'd used that threat on him before.

"Damn right." She leaned back in her seat and took another puff. "I'm stressed, okay."

"Just tell him," he suggested. "It's not like it's Mark Collins. Because that's who he thinks it is."

"You're kidding, right?" Happy straightened up. "He thinks it's Collins? He thinks I would marry that piece of shit?" 

"He believes Collins pressured you into it somehow and now won't let you get a divorce," said Walter. "And that's one of his saner theories."

"Shit."

"He'd probably be so glad it's not Collins, he won't care it's some guy you met when you were eighteen after you got booted from the foster system with nowhere to live and no job because no one would hire a female mechanic with no experience."

"Bunch of fucking sexist pigs," she mumbled before she shook her head. "He'll say I prostituted myself for a roof over my head and food in my belly or some other mumbo jumbo psychotic bullshit. Or that I was looking for a daddy substitute. He'll feast for days on this." Happy wiped away what suspiciously looked like tears, but wisely, Walter did not comment. "Hell, probably years." 

She shook her head. "Nope. I've put out some feelers, got a few leads. I'll fix this. That's what I'm good at, fixing things."

She was glaring at him, defying him to contradict her. He sighed, hoping she was right and he was wrong. But he had a 197 IQ and was rarely wrong. So he decided to change the subject again.

"So where do we sleep?"

Happy indicated his seat. "You're sitting on it."

"You're kidding."

"Nope." She smiled as a burst of laughter and swearing in several different languages came from the back of the bus. "Good night, O'Brien. Sweet dreams." She crushed out her cigarette then snuggled down into her seat.

Walter looked around in dismay. He was in for a long and very, very uncomfortable night.

_____

Paige fumed with rage all the way back to the hotel. Zalina's words after she'd seen Walter were still swirling around her head. "Was that the new roadie?" the other woman had asked. "Oh my God, he _is cute_. I'm going to fuck that new meat so hard he'll be walking funny for a week."

The bitch wasn't going to lay a finger on Walter, because she was going to do everything in her power to stop it. She really needed to talk to him, but circumstances had kept them apart all evening. Then she had another rehearsal tomorrow afternoon, then the concert at eight pm.

Zalina and Anya had mentioned another party after the show, one where the roadies would be in attendance. Maybe she have a chance to speak to him then. 

Pressing her forehead against the window of the shuttle bus, she stared unseeing at the passing buildings. It was too late to phone Ralph, he should have been in bed an hour ago. Walter and Happy had been left behind at the venue. She was stuck with two of the most air-headed mean girls she'd ever met. 

Thank God she had her own room. If she'd had to share with either woman; or God forbid, both; she would have been in for a long and very uncomfortable night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but the cliffhanger I created was too good not to use. I'm evil like that.

Walter woke up as he gradually became aware of a pair of low voices muttering a few feet away. His neck had a crick in it and there was a dull ache in his lower back from trying to sleep on the uncomfortable bus seat. Looking out the window, he noted it was still dark outside, with just a thin sliver of light visible on the horizon.

Shooting a glance across the aisle at a still sleeping Happy, the whispers became clearer as he focused on them, realizing they were speaking Russian. "We don't have to go through customs," someone said. Walter wasn't 100% sure, but he thought the speaker was Akim, the head roadie. He'd been yelled at by the man enough the night before to be familiar with his voice. "Not between states. You know this."

"Da, but what happened in Dallas, it makes me nervous." He didn't recognize the second man.

"You are still upset about Mila. She was careless and stupid."

"No she wasn't."

"We need to be careful or we will all end up like Mila." Akim chuckled. "I don't think we will like American prison."

"Better than Russian gulag," the other man spat out. "I don't like the new guy."

"The noob? Nobody likes him," said Akim. "He's an idiot. The chick, what's her name, Glad or Happy or something stupid like that, she said he told her he worked with a jazz quartet before us."

"Jazz? That garbage?"

"Da, I know. No wonder he's an idiot." The head roadie laughed softly. "I don't think we need to worry about him. Darby will fire his stupid American ass if Yuri catches him fucking up again."

"Good." Silence filled the air for a few moments before the unknown man spoke again. "I'm still worried."

"You worry too much, Nazar. We haven't had a problem getting stuff out of this country before. We won't now. Go back to sleep."

Walter listened as the two men grew quiet, the sound of their even breathing telling him they had both fallen asleep. Going over the conversation in his mind, he speculated on what they had been talking about. There had been no mention of weapons but what else could they mean? Okay, possibly drugs, but they weren't shy about their use of illegal substances. He'd been offered a couple of joints and some pills over the course of the evening, all of which he'd turned down, of course. No, he was certain they'd been discussing guns.

He had to admit he wasn't surprised by their opinion of him. And their comments about jazz were uneducated and uninformed. As if the horrid noise the band performed was worthy of the name music. But he wasn't there to win a popularity contest. He was there to stop a rebellion. 

Attempting to clear his head, he closed his eyes, shifting around on the uncomfortable bus seat as he tried to go back to sleep.

_____

"Mom?"

"Ralph, sweetheart." Paige smiled when she heard her son's voice. It was after four in the afternoon, over twenty-four hours since she'd left for Phoenix. Her day had been a whirlwind of costume fittings and rehearsals and avoiding Yuri's filthy innuendo and groping hands. She'd only caught glimpses of Walter and Happy as they performed their duties, not seeing either of them in the last several hours.

She had snuck out a back door of the venue, and was sitting down at the top of a small flight of concrete steps. "How are you? I would have called sooner, but it's been crazy."

"I'm fine. I'm helping Cabe and Toby fix Walter's washing machine." In the background, Paige heard a loud clang followed by a muffled string of curses.

"What's wrong with Walter's washer?" she asked as she grew concerned. "What needed washing?"

"Oh, uh, me and Sly got some pizza on our clothes last night," the boy genius said quickly. "You won the audition, didn't you?" he asked, changing the subject, adding to her suspicions something other than pizza stained clothing was involved.

"Yes, I did," she acknowledged, pushing aside her concerns. "The concert is in less than four hours."

"Are you nervous?" 

"Yes, a little." She bit her lip as she lied to her son. She was more than a little nervous. She was a lot nervous. Her stomach was roiling with anxiety at the thought of standing in front of thousands of people, singing lyrics she barely knew. 

"You'll do great," Ralph reassured her. "I enjoy you singing to me. I'm sure others will as well."

Paige smiled despite her unease. Her little genius always saw life from a logical angle. Not unlike the bigger genius he wanted to emulate. 

Almost as if he knew she had been thinking about him, she turned to see Walter emerge through the door at her back. He came to a halt when he saw her, and she watched as indecision settled over his features. She beckoned him over, letting him know she wanted his company.

"It's Ralph," she whispered as Walter sat down beside her. "Do you want to talk to him?"

"Sure." He reached for her cell, then drew his hand back. "I don't want to intrude. . ."

"It's fine." She pressed her phone into his palm. "Ralph, Walter's here. I'll put him on."

"Hey, Ralph," the genius greeted her son, his delight in talking to the boy evident in his tone. "That is impressive," he said after a few moments. Walter's eyes slid over to meet hers for a brief moment before shying away. "Yeah, I haven't for awhile though. I don't know if I can do it anymore." He grinned mischievously, causing Paige's heart to skip. He had no idea how sexy he looked when he did that. And in combination with the red plaid flannel shirt and white t-shirt he was wearing, she was surprised she didn't melt into a puddle right there on the steps.

"Yes, a well-rounded education is important. Okay, here's your mom. Bye, Ralph. Talk to you later, buddy." Walter handed the cell back to her. 

"Ralph, honey, remember your day camp starts at nine on Monday. You'll need to set an alarm for eight."

She swore she could hear his eyes roll through their connection. "I will," he huffed. "Toby says I'm supposed to tell you to break a leg, although I'm not sure why, his explanation makes no sense."

Laughing, she said, "I know what it means, and thank you. I'll talk to you later. I love you." She received a grunt in reply as Ralph hung up. Still smiling, she glanced over at the man next to her, gasping at the intensity in his dark eyes.

His expression immediately changed to one of nonchalance as he jumped to his feet. "So it sounds like everything is okay back at the garage," he said, holding out a hand to help her up.

"Everything but your washing machine," she said before she could stop herself.

"What's wrong with my washing machine?" He was frowning now.

"I'm not sure, but it will probably be beyond repair before too long," she said before adding, "Hey, I need to tell you to watch out for Zalina. She's, uh. . ." 

Her face flared with warmth. How was she supposed to warn Walter about a woman who wanted to have sex with him? It really wasn't any of her business. It wasn't like they were a couple or anything. But, she rationalized as she took a deep breath, she was his friend. And friends didn't let other friends get hurt.

"She what?" he asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.

"She-wants-to-sleep-with-you," Paige blurted out in a rush. "Only she didn't put it so politely, if you know what I mean."

Walter had no clue what she meant. Okay, he understood the first part, which was frightening enough. He didn't even know which backup singer she was talking about, not that it mattered. He wasn't interested in either of them, only the woman standing next to him. 

"She's the blonde one," said Paige, as if she had been reading his mind. "I, uh, just thought I should let you know. It's none of my bus. . ."

"No, it's okay. Thanks." He smiled at her. "I will be careful. You should be too."

"Of what?"

"That blond guy. . ."

"Yuri?" Paige laughed. "He flirts with everyone. I don't think he can help himself. He's harmless."

"Okay, but. . ." 

"Don't worry, Walter. I'll be fine."

"Just be careful." He knew she was capable of taking care of herself. She had for years before he'd met her. But still. . . The thought of that asshole laying a finger on her made his blood boil.

"I will." She tilted her head toward the door. "Are you on a break or something?"

"You could say that. I needed some fresh air." He turned to grasp the doorknob. "Uh, do you need to go back?"

"Not yet. I have until six thirty then hair and makeup."

"That's when I assist with the sound check." If they'd let him. Akim was still pissed at him for the amplifier fiasco the previous evening.

Paige looked at her watch. "We have a couple of hours then. Maybe we should do some snooping around?"

"Uh, sure," he agreed, thrilled she suggested they work together. He became even more excited when she moved closer and laid her hand on his upper arm.

The knob twisted in his hand and the door pushed open. "Hey, noob," said Happy, poking her head out of the narrow gap. "Oh, Paige. Hey. . . Uh. . . So, uh, we, like just the other roadies, we're going out to get some food. You coming?" she asked Walter with a smirk. 

He shook his head. "We're going to take a look around." He turned to Paige. "Maybe our bus first?" He filled both women in on the conversation he'd overheard during the night between Akim and Nazar. "I don't know if they were talking about guns, but. . . It would be a good place to start. Everyone else will be gone?" He glanced at the mechanic for confirmation.

"Just don't get caught," she cautioned with a nod. "See ya later, noob." Drawing her head back inside, she then closed the door.

"Why is she calling you ‘noob'?" asked Paige. 

"They're all calling me that. I don't know what it means." He and Paige walked down the steps toward the roadies' bus. 

"It just means you're a newbie." He still didn't understand and his confusion must have shown because she continued with a giggle. "It means you're new to something. A beginner."

"Huh." He had envisioned it being something much worse, such as a certain part of human anatomy.

"Oh, damn. I forgot to warn Happy about Anya." Paige glanced over her shoulder.

"Who's Anya? And why do you. . ." Comprehension hit him like a brick. The other backup singer must have expressed interest in the mechanic. He listened as Paige's explanation verified his assumption. He wanted to reassure her Happy would be okay, she'd been in a relationship with a woman before and wouldn't be shocked if another woman hit on her. But, like her smoking habit, it wasn't his secret to divulge. 

Thankfully they had arrived at the bus, which was unlocked. "You take this side," he suggested, pointing to the seats to the left, "and I take the other. Cabe gave me a cloning device but I don't think we'll find many phones. They'd probably carry those with them. Look for laptops or tablets." Paige nodded and they both went to work rifling through the other roadies' belongings. 

"Oh, God." Paige put her hand over her mouth as Walter looked up from the duffel bag he was searching. 

"What? Did you find something?" He came up behind her and peered over her shoulder. "Oh, boy." She'd uncovered a stash of pornographic material. His face was on fire as he ducked his head. "Uh, you better let me. . .um. . ."

She backed away, bumping into him. "Ugh, no problem," she said, her cheeks a bright pink. "You'd probably. . ."

Footsteps crunched in gravel right outside the bus, cutting off her thought, coming to a halt by the vehicle's entrance. "Quick," she hissed. "Hide. . .or something."

He opened his mouth to argue he had every right to be there but snapped it shut again as the door began to open. Hiding was out of the question. So he did ‘or something'. He grabbed Paige, spun her into the nearest empty seat before straddling her lap. Then he kissed her.


	6. Chapter 6

_So he did ‘or something'. He grabbed Paige, spun her into the nearest empty seat before straddling her lap. Then he kissed her._

Paige had absolutely no time to react as Walter tossed her into an empty seat, then positioned himself on her lap. His lips on hers stunned her to her core. He was tentative at first, and when she didn't resist, grew more bold. Passion exploded inside her and she slid her arms around his neck, entwining her fingers into his dark curls as he entwined his tongue with hers.

"Hey! Who are you? What you doing?"

Darby's agitated voice rang out in the closed confines of the bus, brought her back to her senses. Walter kept kissing her, seemingly unaware they had company. She moved her hands to his shoulders, giving him a little push. His startled dark eyes stared down at her, and she almost forgot why she had broken off their kiss.

"Hey you!"

Walter spun around, blocking her view of the manager. "Uh. . ."

"Oh, it you. Walter, right?" Darby laughed. "You with girl?"

She watched as Walter rubbed the back of his neck, a sign she had learned meant he was nervous. . .and embarrassed.

"Uh, y-yeah," he replied to the other man's question. "I, um. . . I-It's okay, isn't it? I-I d-didn't. . ."

"No, no, it okay." The manager clapped his hands together. "I just win bet. Five hundred dollars." He chuckled again. "Just be done by six-thirty. And remember, clean off seat."

Paige's face grew hot as the bus swayed when Darby stepped out and shut the doors. Walter remained facing away from her, no doubt as mortified as she was. 

"I-I'm sorry," he muttered, hanging his head. "I-I, uh, thought it w-wouldn't seem sus-suspicious if I, um. . ."

"It's okay, Walter." She placed her hand on his back. "It was. . .just a little unexpected, that's all."

"I d-don't think he saw you." He sat down next to her, still not meeting her eyes. "I d-didn't know what else to do. I didn't w-want to blow our cover. It m-meant noth. . ."

"Walter, stop." He glanced over at her then, for just a second, before staring at the back of the seat in front of them again. Saying their kiss meant nothing was the last thing she wanted to hear. Plus she knew it was a lie. He'd poured his heart and soul into that kiss, leaving her flustered and achy and longing for more. The fact he was still trembling told her he'd been affected as well.

"Should we keep searching?" she asked with a calmness she didn't feel.

"Yes." He rose to his feet, returning to the bag he'd been looking through before they'd been interrupted. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Walter spoke. "He said he won a bet."

"Who?" Paige was thrown off by the random comment. "Darby?"

"Yes. He said he won five hundred dollars." He looked at her, a frown on his face. "Why would he tell me that?"

Paige reran the conversation with the manager through her head. Oh, God, the band and crew must have had a bet concerning either Walter's sexual experience or his sexuality. She couldn't possibly tell him that.

Casually shrugging her shoulders, she said, "Who knows? Maybe he's telling everyone? He doesn't have the best grasp of the English language, does he?"

She couldn't tell by his expression whether Walter believed her or not. Giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she powered up a tablet she'd found in a backpack. 

"No, I guess not," he replied.

Hoping he'd drop the subject, she glanced at the device in her hand. "Oh, it's in Russian."

"Let me see." Walter came over and she handed him the tablet. 

"You can read Russian?" Although she didn't know why she was surprised. He had a 197 IQ after all.

"Some. I'd like to be more proficient but there never seems to be enough time to study." She watched as his eyes scanned the screen as he opened and closed files. "Nothing about weapons," he declared as his face turned red again. "Just the, uh, usual stuff."

Paige bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. She loved how embarrassed he got about things other men wouldn't give a second thought. There was something so sweet about his naivety.

She glanced over at him and he must have felt her eyes on him as he looked up. Giving her a shy smile, he ducked his head and refocused on the bag he was searching through.

For the third time that day, his unwitting sexiness left her breathless. Soon it wasn't going to be a matter of her making the first move (as Ray suggested). It was going to be a matter of her not being able to resist him any longer.

_____

"Hey, noob, when you get done loading all the sound equipment, there's party in Yuri's suite at the hotel."

Walter turned around to see Akim and Mikhail, another one of the roadies, standing behind him. "Uh, okay." He tapped the amplifier on the hand cart. "This is the last amp."

"Really? Well, shit, noob," said Akim, "you just might not get fired." He elbowed the man next to him. "Hey, yeah, bring your girl."

"My girl?" Walter wondered where they got the idea he had a girl. 

"The one you were fucking on the bus," said Mikhail. "Or was that just a one off?"

His face instantly went up in flames. "Uh, oh, yeah," he managed to say. "Just a, um, one off." Oh, damn, the manager must have told everyone what he'd seen earlier that afternoon. Darby must not have realized it was Paige, or that rumor would have no doubt spread like wildfire as well.

"Lucky dog," said Akim. He patted his friend on the shoulder. "Come on, maybe Yuri will leave a few chicks for us."

The two men walked off, leaving Walter alone with the equipment and his brooding thoughts. Paige would be at that party. Happy, too. He recalled Cabe's parting words, to keep an eye on the two women. He now knew why the older man had been concerned. These men, both the band members and the crew, were like animals. They treated women as playthings, indiscriminately used drugs, and were in general just loathsome human beings. 

They'd given him all the grunt work to do during the concert, just to see if he'd break. He'd done all the lifting and toting while they stood around and ordered him about. He'd taken it all in stride, not giving them the satisfaction of hearing him complain or seeing him falter. His muscles were aching and his head was pounding from listening to two hours' worth of the loud screeching music and the screaming of the crowd.

With a frustrated sigh, he wheeled the heavy amp toward the waiting van. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could go to their stupid party to make sure Paige and Happy were okay.

_____

The air was thick with smoke when Walter opened the door to the lead singer's hotel room. Immediately his eyes sought out Paige, who was sitting in a corner, holding a bottle of beer and talking to the woman who took care of the band's costumes. Relieved she was all right, he switched the focus of his search to the other member of his team.

Oh, shit. His gaze came to rest upon Happy, who was sitting on one of Akim's legs while taking a puff off a joint. The black haired backup singer. . .Anya, he thought Paige said her name was. . .was sitting on the man's other leg. Happy passed her the marijuana but before the other woman could take a hit, the two women kissed each other. A long lingering kiss involving teeth and tongue he had to glance away from as it grew more intimate

He'd been worried something like this would happen. Happy had been acting recklessly since she had to turn down Toby's proposal. Smoking, drinking, going off on wild motorcycle rides. . . And now she was doing drugs and cheating. . . Frantically he glanced over at Paige, catching her eye this time. She smiled at him for a moment before frowning as his gaze darted to the mechanic and her new friend. The liaison gave her head a small shake, which he understood meant not to interfere. 

"Hey, noob," said a voice behind him. Walter turned to see Nazar, the other roadie he'd overheard on the bus, holding out an unopened bottle of beer. "Here."

He'd been about to tell the other man he didn't drink but he knew that would be the wrong thing to say. "Thanks," he said instead, taking the offered beverage. He glanced around for an opener, since not opening the bottle would look suspicious. Peering at it closer, he twisted off the cap and pretended to take a drink.

Glancing around, his eyes widened as his brain registered the near orgy going around him. Couples in various states of undress were making out everywhere he looked. Yuri had a girl, who appeared to be in her late teens, on his lap. Her top was gone and the lead singer had a hand up her skirt. 

He took a deep breath, which was a huge mistake, as he inhaled a large quantity of smoke, both cigarette and marijuana. Choking a little, he took an actual sip of his beer to clear his throat. Once he had recovered, he noticed Paige had stood up and was making her way toward him through the crowded room.

"Ahh!" The girl on Yuri's lap cried out as the singer tossed her to the floor. Getting to his feet, he blocked Paige's path. 

"Hey, baby," he purred as he slid his arms around her and grabbed her ass. Walter's beer fell from his grasp as his hands clenched into fists. Paige's horrified expression appeared over Yuri's shoulder, causing him to take a step forward, ready to knock the bastard on his ass for touching her.

She mouthed the word "No" at him, pleading silently for him not to intervene. He came to a halt a few feet away, realizing he would blow their cover if he confronted the other man. 

"So, you like singing with band?" asked Yuri as his hands began roaming up and down her back. 

"It's a lot of fun." Walter knew her smile was false as she kept her eyes locked on his while she endured the other man's groping.

"If you're nice to me, I can be very nice to you." The lead singer brought his mouth very close to hers. "If you not so nice, maybe Yuri not so nice either."

"Oh, I don't know," Paige said breathlessly in a ditzy voice. "Uh, excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom."

"Don't make me wait too long, sweet cheeks." He slapped her butt. "Hurry back." 

"Sure." Paige hustled away from the lead singer as fast as she could. Staring at Walter, she tipped her head toward the door leading out of the room. Giving her a nod, he spun around and pushed his way through the crowd.

Walter was waiting in the hallway when she stumbled through the door. "Oh, God." She fell into his arms, trembling violently. "I don't think I can do this," she murmured. "Being up on stage, singing. . ."

Drawing her closer, he awkwardly patted her back as she started to sob on his shoulder. "You were great," he said.

She shook her head. "No, I was terrified. And now. . ." Pausing to hiccup, she continued, "and now I think he expects me to sleep with him to keep my job."

"Maybe we can talk to Cabe, get someone else. . ." Walter tried to calm her, even though he was far from feeling calm himself. Seeing the other man with his hands all over Paige. . . Well, it made him want to hit things. Yuri's stupid face in particular.

"No, I said I would do it," she said as she put some distance between them and wiped at her damp cheeks and his damp shirt. "I'm sorry. Let's get out of here. There's a diner across the street. Maybe we can get something non-alcoholic to drink?"

"Okay." Walter's heart skipped a beat as she reached for his hand and led him to the elevator.

_____

"Make sure to seal it nice and tight," instructed Toby. "You need to keep that air trapped inside. Just like this."

"Okay." Ralph made the necessary adjustment.

"Perfect." The shrink smiled. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Now bring down your arm."

The youngster and the doctor both quickly lowered their bent arms. Loud fart-like noises trumpeted throughout the loft. 

"I did it!" Ralph jumped up and down excitedly. 

"You sure did." Toby ruffled the boy's hair. "Okay, now time to get ready for bed before Sly starts pecking at us like an old mother hen." 

"Okay." The boy genius rolled his eyes before running off toward the bathroom.

"You are disgusting." The human calculator stopped in the middle of an equation he was writing on the dry erase board to address Toby.

"What? The kid is sadly lacking in all of the manly arts," declared the psychiatrist. "Burping, armpit farts, spitting for distance. . . Someone has to teach him. And since his real dad is a loser. . ."

"It's not hurting anyone and he's having fun." Cabe glanced up from where he was sitting on the couch, reading a Zane Grey novel.

"It's still gross. And it's almost midnight. He should have gone to bed hours ago."

"It's summer and the weekend," Toby declared. "It's not going to kill him to stay up late once in a while."

"Well if it does, it's all your fault." With a dramatic sigh, Sylvester turned his attention back to his work.

A buzzing vibrating sound came from Toby's jeans pocket. "Hey, it's a text from Happy," he said. "‘Having fun and wishing you were here.' Aw, she misses me. Now she's sending a picture."

His excitement drained away as he stared at the selfie of her sitting on a man's lap smoking a joint. "What the hell?"

"What's wrong?" Sly hurried over to take a look. "Oh, my. . . I didn't know she. . ."

"She doesn't," said Toby. "Well, not as long as I've known her anyway."

Another picture popped up onto the screen. "Oh, God." Sylvester's eyes were huge. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Is what what you think it is?" asked the Homeland agent as he ambled over to take a peek. "Good Lord."

"Yep," Toby replied, staring down at his cell. "That's Happy's butt."


	7. Chapter 7

_"Yep," Toby replied, staring down at his cell. "That's Happy's butt."_

"That's way more than I ever wanted to see of her," said Sly, averting his eyes.

"You and me both, kid." Cabe shook his head as he walked back over to the couch and his book.

Toby's fingers flew over his keypad. ‘ _How high are you?_ '

‘ _As a kite Doc_ ,' came the reply a few minutes later. Then a third photo appeared of Happy kissing a hot looking black haired woman. Both women looked disheveled and the mechanic had red lipstick prints all over her face and neck.

Oh, shit. ‘ _Happy honey as much as I enjoy lesbian porn I really don't want to see my girlfriend as one of the participants_ ,' he typed out before hitting send.

_‘Liar_.' Dammit, she knew him too well. Still, it was disconcerting to see the woman he loved kissing anyone else of any gender. And where the hell were Walter and Paige? Why weren't they at what looked like an after concert party in a hotel suite? Or if they were there, why weren't they doing something about Happy's self-destructive behavior? More than a little pissed, he fired off a text to Walter. 

‘ _Hey 197 where the hell are you? Need to do something about Happy before she does something she regrets_.'

"Who's it from?" Paige asked as Walter's phone chirped as they sat in a booth at the diner, each with a half-eaten breakfast special in front of them. She stabbed a piece of pancake with her fork.

"Toby," he replied tersely. "He's worried about Happy."

"We can't interfere." Stuffing the food into her mouth, she chewed before speaking again. "Tell him that."

Several moments passed after Walter send his reply to the shrink before he received another notification. "He's sent a picture of her. It appears things have gotten out of hand since we've left." He showed his cell to Paige.

"Oh, my. . ." Walter had to repress a smile as Paige's eyes grew wide. Happy and Anya were no longer sitting on Akim's lap, but were now making out on a couch, both women shirtless but still wearing their bras. The mechanic's eyes appeared glassy and he wondered how much marijuana she'd smoked or if she'd ingested some of the other drugs available as well.

"Damn, we need to do something," Paige conceded. She tipped her head as she gave him an assessing look. "You're not surprised."

Walter sighed as he shook his head. "Happy was involved with a woman when I first met her. It ended. . .badly. She swore off both women and men for long time."

"Until Toby," Paige said with a smile. 

"Until Toby," he confirmed with a nod. "Ready?" He stood up and tossed a couple of twenties onto the table.

She slid out of the booth. "As I'll ever be." She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. 

Walter closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the contact. Something had changed between them in the last few days. He didn't want to question it, didn't want to get his hopes up. . . But if the outcome of working on this case brought him and Paige closer together. . . Well, it would be worth all the crap he was having to deal with from the rest of the crew.

He glanced over at her and she smiled shyly at him. But she didn't let go of his hand.

_____

Things had indeed gotten out of control when Walter pushed his way back inside the hotel suite. On the ride up in the elevator, he'd had suggested they enter separately, and Paige had agreed. Now he wasn't sure he wanted to her to step foot in the place at all.

Half-naked writhing bodies covered every flat and some not so flat surfaces. Quite a few people had passed out, or at least he hoped that was the case. As stoically as he could, he scanned the suite for any signs of Happy.

He heard the door open behind him as he finally found the mechanic lying unconscious on a leather sofa, under the black-haired back up singer, who was also out like a light. It took all his resolve not to turn around when Paige gasped. 

Sighing wearily, he moved forward, planning to rescue his friend when his progress came to a screeching halt when a woman pressed herself against him.

"Hi, I'm Zalina," she introduced herself, her words slurred as she grabbed his ass. She must be the other singer, the one Paige had warned him about. He had to admit her countenance was symmetrically pleasing. But there was something about her eyes that was off-putting. Even if he wasn't in love with Paige, he would have steered clear of this woman.

He averted his face for a moment as the alcohol fumes emitting from her filled his nose. She grasped his head with both hands and pulled him toward her before kissing him full on the lips. She stuffed her tongue into his mouth and he pushed her away as he gagged. She didn't seem to notice as she snaked her arms around his neck. "Let's fuck." She mumbled her invitation into his ear then bit its lobe none too gently.

"Uh, no-no th-thanks," he stammered, trying to politely extricate himself from her unwanted advances.

Paige had no such qualms. After searching the room and seeing no sign of Yuri, she made her way over to the sofa. She was nearly there when Zalina attached herself to Walter like a leech. Rage boiled up inside her and politeness was the last thing on her mind as she shoved the woman away from the genius with all her might. The singer must have been more wasted than she seemed because she fell like a load of bricks to the floor, narrowly missing hitting her head on an end table. Paige felt bad for about a second.

"Come on," she said to a stunned and red-faced Walter. "Let's grab Happy and get out of here."

"O-Okay." Working in tandem, they pulled the mechanic out from under her stoned friend. Paige found her discarded t-shirt and yanked it over Happy's head before Walter lifted her by the shoulders. Grabbing her legs, Paige helped him navigate their way to the door. 

Once they were out in the hallway, they set the mechanic on her feet, still hanging onto her as she slumped toward the floor. "Where are we going to do with her?" Walter asked. "The bus. . ."

"My room's on the floor above," Paige stated. "She can sleep it off there."

"Good idea." Together they half-carried, half-dragged Happy toward the elevator. "We're leaving at ten," Walter added as they waited for the car to reach them.

"I'll make sure she's sober and ready to go by then. We fly out at two." She was not looking forward to being alone with the rest of the band members. And she especially wasn't looking forward to being away from Walter for so long. At least he'd be safe from Zalina for most of the day. She couldn't shake the image of the other woman kissing Walter from her head and jealousy surged through her again. He'd been so shocked. . .and disgusted, thank God, obviously not enjoying it at all.

It was then she noticed he was frowning at her and she quickly flashed him a reassuring smile. He grinned back at her. "Uh. . ." Anything he might have said was interrupted by the arrival of the elevator.

Fifteen minutes, after leading an uncooperative Happy upstairs and through several hallways, she was stretched out on the extra bed in Paige's room, snoring indelicately. Walter got out his phone and sent a text to Toby, informing the shrink the mechanic was okay - stoned - but okay.

‘ _You need to keep a better watch on her big brain_.' He showed Toby's reply to Paige, who rolled her eyes, before he sent a response.

‘ _Happy's a big girl and if she wants to party we can't interfere_.'

‘ _You ass_.'

Walter was about to type out his own insult when Paige snatched the cell out of his hands and sent a message of her own. ‘ _Toby this is Paige. The situation is under control. Go check on Ralph then get your own ass to bed_.'

‘ _Is going to bed what you and 197 will be doing?_ ' The psychiatrist's taunting text caused Walter's face to burn and he peeked over at Paige, whose cheeks were glowing pink. Then looking as stern as she could, the liaison took a picture of herself which she immediately sent.

‘ _Ok ok Ralph's fine. Good night_.'

Paige handed his phone back to him. "Uh, I, um. . .should go," he suggested. Damn Toby anyway, for putting the idea of staying the night with Paige into his head. Now it was all he could think about. 

"You could stay if you want," she said as if the shrink had planted the seed in her mind too. "There's another bed. . . I can share with Happy. . ." She gazed up at him, biting her lip in a way that always drove him crazy. 

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he summoned what was left of his willpower and common sense. "I-I better n-not," he said. "It might look suspicious if the three of us are seen together too much. I-I'd better g-go."

"Okay, that makes sense." She sounded cheerful, but he could read the disappointment on her face. "I'll have her ready by ten."

"Good." He still hadn't made a move to actually depart. Paige stepped toward him with a breathtaking smile until she was so close he could hear her heart beating. At least he thought it was hers. It could have been his, since it was trying to pound its way out of his chest. 

"Good night, Walter," she murmured, bringing up one of her hands to cup his cheek. Then she leaned in and lightly kissed him on the lips before stepping back.

"Uh. . . G-G-Good n-night." 

Thankfully the roadies' bus was mostly deserted when he climbed inside, with only a handful of the others settling down for the night. He sat down in the seat where he'd tossed and turned the night before, reliving the jolt of desire that had surged through his body when Paige's mouth had touched his, certain sleep would elude him once again.

_____

A very irritated sunglasses wearing Happy stepped onto the bus five minutes before they were scheduled to leave for San Diego the next morning.

"Good morning." Walter could barely keep a straight face as his friend shot him a look he was glad wasn't lethal.

"Shut the hell up, noob." She plopped down in the seat opposite him. "I suppose you're bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning."

"Well, I'm not hungover, if that's what you mean." 

"God damn prude." She winced at the volume of her own voice. "And please tell me you didn't stay with Paige last night."

"I didn't. I slept here." Surprisingly, he'd fallen asleep long enough to conjure up some extremely stimulating dreams starring the liaison. "Why do you ask?"

"She woke me up a couple times, moaning and calling out your name. I thought you two were getting busy on the other bed." She slid down her glasses to stare at him. "Not only would it have probably blown the investigation, I should have known you wouldn't have the balls."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked indignantly.

"It means you've been drooling over her since before Tim left but you haven't done anything about it." Pushing the dark lenses back over her eyes, she slouched down in her seat. "And as much fun it would be to talk about your non-existent love life, I'm going to go back to sleep. Good night, noob."

Walter just grunted, lost in his own thoughts as the mechanic leaned her head against the bus window. Had Paige really been having erotic dreams about him, like the ones he'd had about her? Or had Happy been so wasted, she'd been imaging things? 

But Happy was right, he didn't have the ‘balls' to make the first move. He'd already been rejected once in favor of Tim. It had to be Paige's decision if she wanted to be with him. And lately. . . He took a deep breath. Lately it seemed as if she did want to be with him. Hoping he wasn't reading too much into her recent behavior, like the kiss she'd given him last night, he stretched out on his seat and followed Happy's example as the bus pulled out into traffic.

_____

Paige watched as the bus pulled away from the curb, an ache deep in her chest. It would be at least six hours before she saw him again. Saw them again, she scolded herself, knowing she would be worried about Happy too. But her concern about the mechanic wasn't as near as strong as her anxiety about being away from Walter.

Then pain exploded at the back of her head as someone yanked her hair, snapping her neck backward. "Ow! What the hell?" She spun around, gritting her teeth as hairs were pulled from her scalp.

Both Zalina and Anya were standing there, the blonde singer smugly holding a fist full of honey-colored strands. "Good morning, bitch," the other woman sneered.

Anya moved closer and Paige could see she was pissed. "I said Happy was mine, bitch." She pushed on the liaison's right shoulder. "How dare you sleep with her first?"

"I didn't. It wasn't like that," Paige began to explain. "I was worried about her being so out of it. . .and she's the only female roadie. . .and. . ."

"Shut up." The dark haired woman turned to Zalina and shook her head. "What a bunch of shit. You stole her away from me and you're going to pay, bitch." With that, she twirled around and stalked back to the front desk. 

"And that was you last night, wasn't it." Zalina confronted her next. "You're the slut who pushed me away from the new meat, weren't you? You probably want him too, you fucking bitch." Her eyes looked Paige up and down and obviously found her lacking if her expression was anything to go by. "You want to fuck someone so bad, go fuck Yuri. He'll fuck anything."

The blonde curled her lip as she moved back. With an animosity she didn't know she was capable of, Paige retorted, "Well, he's fucked you, hasn't he?"

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling in satisfaction as the other woman's jaw dropped and her mouth gaped open. "I'm going to kick your ass, bitch," Zalina hissed before spinning and following the other singer.

Great, she thought as her smugness wore off. She'd managed to tick off two of the people she had to work closely with. God, no matter how exhilarating it was to be around Walter away from the prying eyes at the garage, they needed to step up their efforts to catch the gun smugglers. She didn't know how much more of this she could take.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a line early in this chapter I've given to Happy I believe speaks for the whole Waige fandom. At least it speaks for this Waige shipper. Plus there's a whole lot of Walter and Happy interaction in this chapter. I love their sibling/friend dynamic, it's fun to write.

"Where the hell are we? And why is it so damn hot?" A groggy Happy rose up into a sitting position across the bus aisle from Walter, pushing her hair off of her face.

"We are traveling west on Interstate 8 approximately five miles east of Yuma Arizona," he replied. "And it's hot because we're in the Sonoran Desert during the summer and the air conditioning is on the fritz."

"Thanks for the detailed update, smart ass." She took off her sunglasses to wipe at her eyes then put them back on. "Are we stopping any time soon? I could take at look at the A/C. And I really gotta pee. Paige made me drink three cups of coffee this morning."

He nodded. "We're stopping in Yuma for lunch and fuel and a, uh, bathroom break."

"Good." Craning her neck, Happy looked at the occupied seats behind them before bending low and whispering, "We need to talk. Privately."

"Uh, okay." He glanced over his shoulder as well. Most of the other roadies were still sleeping. A few were awake but almost all of them were looking down at a screen of one kind or another. "I need to talk to you too."

"If it's about last night. . ." She glared at him menacingly. 

"I, um, didn't know you were still into. . .uh. . ."

"What? Having sex with women?" She rolled her eyes. "You should try it sometime, O'Brien."

"Uh. . .I. . .I've. . .um. . .I. . ." 

"Jesus, don't hurt yourself, Walt." Happy shook her head as she took off her leather jacket. "I'm in love with Toby, who just happens to be a man. I still find women. . .and other men attractive. I'm not dead."

Walter had quit paying attention when he recognized the sleeveless red top she was wearing. It belonged to Paige. On Happy it was much looser, it didn't conform to the curves of her body as it did on the liaison. He recalled how it had clung to her breasts and. . .

"Oh shit. . .you sick freak," hissed the mechanic, shaking him from his erotic fantasies. "You're thinking of Paige in this stupid shirt, aren't you?" With a huff of annoyance, she yanked a lump of grey cloth from her jacket pocket and pulled the badly wrinkled tee over her head. "I told her I didn't want to borrow it but she insisted I needed something clean."

Happy flopped back in her seat, crisscrossing her arms. "I swear, O'Brien, if you don't grow a pair and make a move, I'm going to lock you both in a closet and not let you out until you've screwed each other's brains out."

It was a half an hour later when they were parked at a truck stop, Walter approached Happy, bringing her a peace offering of a sub sandwich and a liter of cola. The mechanic and the bus driver were elbow deep into the vehicle's engine, trying to determine what was wrong with the cooling system.

"Hey, thanks." She wiped off her hands on her jeans as she accepted the food. "Kevin, why don't you go get something to eat? I can go solo on this for awhile."

"Sure." The driver took off across the parking lot. Happy took a bite of her sandwich before washing it down with nearly half of the pop.

"Okay, last night, before things got a bit. . .crazy. . ." she began before interrupting herself with a burp. 

"Crazy is one way to describe it." Walter scratched the side of his face. "Irresponsible is another."

"Spare me the lecture, Grandma." 

He ignored her insult. "How much do you remember?"

"Not much after I started smoking weed." She ducked away from his disapproving stare. "Akim told me he's Yuri's cousin and that Yuri trusts him with all the important stuff." Shaking her head, she added, "He was trying to get into my pants so he might have just been saying that, thinking it would impress me. Anyway, I let him cop a feel then asked him what kind of important stuff.

"He told me the really important stuff that had nothing to do with the band," she continued. "I couldn't get him to tell me any more, then Anya showed up with some pot and. . . Well, you know what happened."

"We need to clone Akim's phone," Walter suggested. "Yuri's too. See if there are any incriminating texts or calls. I'll give you the cloning device when we get back on the bus." He watched as she wolfed down the rest of her sandwich, wondering how to reintroduce the subject of her reckless behavior.

"Uh, you shouldn't have to put up with, you know. . .what Akim did," he said. When she looked at him blankly, he explained, "T-Touch you. C-Cop a feel."

"I can handle it." Happy crossed her arms over her chest. 

"You shouldn't have to."

"It's no big deal, O'Brien. You're not my nanny."

"No, but Toby wants me to be. He was pretty upset last night."

She groaned. "Oh, shit, what. . ."

"You might want to check your phone. It's, uh. . .self-explanatory."

The mechanic whipped her cell out of her back pocket and started swiping. "Oh crap, oh crap, oh shit." She squinted at him with a frown. "Where the hell were you? Why didn't you stop me?"

"I wasn't there," he said. "You wouldn't have listened to me anyway."

"I don't mean that." She held up her phone and shook it at him. "Why did you let me text the doc? Where the hell were you?"

"I was loading all the equipment. . .by myself."

"Oh yeah. Akim thought you'd get pissed off and quit." Happy shook her head as she smirked.

"He said as much last night." Walter shoved his hands into his pockets. "About last night. . . Hear me out," he said as she started to protest. "You were kinda out of control. You've kinda been out of control for awhile. You're my friend. . .I-I don't w-want to see you get hurt."

She drained what was left of her drink. "I know," she replied before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'll turn it down a notch or two, okay?" She shrugged. "Hey, if you want to worry about someone, you should worry about Paige." 

"I'm always worried about Paige. But do you have a specific reason?"

"Yeah, Paige is the one who's gonna have to clone Yuri's phone. She's the only one of us who can get close enough to him to do it without causing suspicion."

Walter nodded. "That makes sense. But. . ."

"But you're not gonna like this like. Akim told me Yuri's planning to fuck her after the next concert, if not sooner." 

Oh, shit. It shouldn't have been a surprise, not after overhearing the conversation the lead singer had with Paige at the party. But to learn it was common knowledge, that the others were so casually discussing what would be rape. . . His hands curled into fists as he was filled with a burning need to damage more than Yuri's face. 

"So, did you and Paige find out anything helpful yesterday afternoon?"

Happy's question sent him careening from his violent thoughts to remembering the kiss he and Paige had shared on the bus the day before. "Uh, no," he said once he'd cleared his mind. "Just a lot of nonsense."

"I heard there was some ‘nonsense' going on, all right," she commented with a grin. "I need to thank you. I won a hundred bucks."

"You're the second person to tell me they've won money. I take it you were in on the same bet Darby was," he said indignantly.

"Yeah." She stared down into the bus's motor. "Look, don't get your panties in a wad, it was no big deal. Actually the guys all have a little more respect for you now."

"They're disgusting."

"I'm not disputing that. Here," she said, handing him her sandwich wrapper and empty bottle. "I think I see the problem." She pointed to a hose deep inside the engine. "The connection is corroded and it's leaking Freon. I'm gonna have to crawl underneath to repair it. Make yourself useful and go get the duct tape from the side pocket of my bag."

"Okay." Walter walked around the side of bus to the doors and climbed inside. He sighed as he unzipped the designated pocket of Happy's duffel. If only duct tape could fix every problem.

_____

Paige stood just off stage, waiting for her fellow backup singers to appear. Darby had called for yet another rehearsal, saying they were still ‘off'. Massaging her temples, she tried to will away the headache she'd had since landing in San Diego. Zalina and Anya were being huge bitches, not only where they not speaking to her, they'd stopped speaking to each other over a pair of shoes they both claimed.

She couldn't believe how shallow and stupid the other women were. Makeup, clothing, drugs, and sex were all they ever talked about. They had no idea what it was like to be responsible for paying bills or raising a child. She missed Ralph more every day she was away from him. She'd called the garage about an hour earlier, only to reach the answering machine. Hoping he and his babysitters were just out on some manly yet safe adventure, she closed her eyes as the pain still throbbed behind them.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at the one person she was glad to see. "Walter." Her headache easing, she smiled at him. "I am now. What are you doing here?"

"Taking a break." He glanced over his shoulder. "Everyone else is outside smoking."

"Even Happy?"

He nodded. "Listen, I gave her the cloning device." He filled her in on the conversation he and the mechanic had earlier that day at the truck stop. "She thinks Akim might just be bragging, but we both figured it was worth checking out."

"At least it's something. So far I've been pretty worthless," she said. "Both you and Happy have found leads. I haven't done anything." Except be threatened by her co-workers with both physical and sexual assault.

"Yeah, well." He ran his hand over the back of his neck and his gaze dropped to the floor. "There's something we're going to need you to do."

The fact he was nervous and not meeting her eyes told her she wasn't going to like whatever it was they wanted her to do. Then she gasped, realizing it could only be one thing.

"I need to clone Yuri's phone, don't I?" 

"I'm sorry," he said. "If there was any other way. . . If I could. . ."

"No, it's okay. I can do it." Oh, God, at least she hoped she could. Cloning the phone would only take three minutes but that was three minutes too many to be around the perverted singer. Plus she'd have to make sure he had his cell with him before she could even attempt it. 

"Th-There's something el-else," he stammered, flicking his eyes between her and his shoes. "Yuri. . ." He gulped, and she knew he dreaded telling her. "He, uh. . . He said he was going to. . . To. . .um, you know. . . Havesexwithyouafterthenextconcert."

Although she didn't quite catch everything he'd said, between his bright red face and the bits of his hurried speech she did hear, she caught his meaning. "He's more or less made that threat to my face already," she pointed out. "I can do this, Walter. I have to do it. It will be all right. Okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled. He raised his head when they heard a door open and several sets of footsteps walk inside the backstage area. "I gotta go."

"Okay."

"Hey, noob, I thought I said to put that amp stack on the other side of the stage," Akim's voice rang out from somewhere behind them.

"I gotta go," he repeated, although he didn't move away. Maybe he was as reluctant to go as she was to let him leave. She wanted. . .no, she needed to kiss him, because. . . It just really felt wrong not to.

He must have been thinking along the same lines as his mouth came down hard on hers, his hands on her hips, tugging her body to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her hands through his curls as she entwined her tongue with his. 

"Hey, noob! Where the fuck are you? Break's over!"

They sprang apart as the head roadie's angry shouts came from only a few feet away. "S-Sorry," Walter rasped, giving her an intense awestruck stare before dashing off.

She sagged against the wall, her back sliding down it a little as her knees wobbled. Oh, God. She didn't know what it was; the fact they were away from the garage, the sex-charged rock and roll atmosphere, the flannel shirts. . . But damn. . . A girl could only take so much before she snapped. And she was almost at her breaking point.

_____

Paige sighed with relief. At long last, rehearsal was over. The rest of the band had left over an hour ago, leaving her alone with Zalina and Anya. The two women must have made up, as they were no longer sniping at each other, instead saving all their venom for her.

"That sounded like strangled cats," Zalina sneered, glaring directly at Paige. "How you get gig anyway? You suck."

The liaison just rolled her eyes. "Whatever." Snatching up her belongings, she stalked off the stage.

And straight into Yuri. "Hey, babe," he purred, pushing her up against the nearest wall.

"I-I thought you left." He'd grabbed her upper arms, applying pressure as she tried to squirm away.

"I did. But I came back. I wanted to see you." Pressing himself against her, she could feel the huge bulge in his tight leather pants. Her stomach lurched and she had to keep herself from being sick. 

"You're so pretty," he went on, not noticing or not caring about her distress, she didn't know. He lifted one hand to swipe a strand of hair from her face. "And a beautiful singer. If you would only. . .put out a little effort," he paused before chuckling as if he'd made a joke, "you could have great career with me."

"I-I. . .I don't know. . ." She knew she needed to be more convincing but. . . He was so repulsive she couldn't think straight.

"Maybe you come to my room later tonight," he invited, his eyelids drooping into what he must thought was a sexy stare. "We can discuss. . .your positions."

"I-I. . ."

"Maybe this help you decide." He leaned down, tightening his hold on her as he puckered his lips. Trying to twist away, she was nearly blinded by a firework exploding just a few feet away.

"Fuck! What was that?" Yuri let go of her, shaking his head and sticking his finger in his ear. 

Blinking her eyes until she could sort of see again, she watched as Happy stepped forward. "Sorry, my bad. Must have been a malfunction."

Then she winked at Paige.


	9. Chapter 9

_Happy stepped forward. "Sorry, my bad. Must have been a malfunction."_

_Then she winked at Paige._

"Shit, my ears are still ringing." Yuri spun around to point at the mechanic. "What the hell?"

"I said the charge must have malfunctioned," Happy shouted at him before shrugging. "It happens."

The other pyrotechnician nodded, holding up one of his hands which was missing a finger. "Lost it five year ago. Bad fuse."

Yuri dismissed the man with a grunt, then sneered at Happy. "I should fire you, bitch." 

Paige bit her lip, wondering how the mechanic would react. The other woman's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth, no doubt to make a sarcastic remark which would get her bounced off the case.

"Hey, it's just mistake, Yuri." Akim hustled over to stand in front of the taller man. "She's good worker. It was accident, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." The lead singer stuck a finger in his ear again. "She fucks up again, she's fired." He turned and walked away, muttering ‘stupid bitch' under his breath. 

Everyone else followed Yuri, leaving Paige and Happy standing a few feet away from each other. "Come toward me, then drop your bag," hissed the mechanic. Wondering why the other woman made such an odd request, Paige did as asked, letting go of her purse in front of Happy's work boots.

They both crouched down at the same time. "Here, take this," the mechanic whispered as she slipped a small metallic device into the liaison's hand. "I've cloned Akim's phone. You need. . ."

"To do Yuri's. I know, Walter told me." Paige shuddered a little at the thought of the unpleasant task ahead. 

"Okay then." Happy made a show of picking up the bag and handing it to Paige before adding, "And hey, I have it on good authority what Yuri has in his pants is a pair of rolled up socks."

With that, she stalked off, leaving Paige with her mouth hanging open. Glancing across the stage, she spied Walter at the top of a ladder, staring at her, concern easily readable on his face even from where she was standing. She flashed the cloning device at him, then smiled. He nodded back at her, his worried expression unchanged.

"Hey Paige." Darby came trotting up to her. "You come now. We going back to hotel." 

"Yeah, sure." Sliding the small object into her purse, which she then slung over her shoulder, she and the manager headed out to where the shuttle bus was waiting. 

As she walked out of the building, Paige knew the exploding firework had been no accident. Happy had really saved her ass back there.

She just wondered where in the hell the mechanic had gotten her information about the contents of Yuri's tight leather pants.

_____

"There, all new and improved and properly installed."

Toby, along with Cabe and Ralph stepped back to admire their handiwork. Which had been mostly the Homeland agent's handiwork. He and the youngster had mainly been tool providers and instruction readers, but the pride of accomplishment was still there.

"You guys really think Walter isn't going to notice a completely different washing machine?" Sylvester stood behind them, shaking his head. 

"Of course, he's going to notice," said the shrink. "But this one's better. It doesn't use as much water and it's more energy efficient. You know how he feels about efficiency. He's gonna love it."

"I hope you're right," said Sly. "I don't want to get in trouble."

"Trouble, smouble." Toby shrugged. "You know, all this manly work has made me hungry." He struck a pose as he flexed his biceps. 

"Me, too," said Ralph. "Can we get pizza?"

"We've already had pizza the past two nights." Cabe fist bumped his lower chest. "It gave me heartburn last night."

"Too spicy for you, old man?" The psychiatrist hopped out of the way of the agent's foot.

"Next one will be up your ass, punk. Old man. I'll show you an old man."

"Guys. . ." The human calculator glanced uneasily from man to man.

"So are we going to get pizza or not?" Ralph looked up, his puppy dog eyes played up to the hilt. "Please?"

"Sure, buddy, why not?" Toby strolled over to his desk, picked up his phone, and hit the speed dial for their favorite pizza place. "The usual?"

"Yes," Ralph and Sly said at the same time. "Make mine with double jalapeños," the Homeland agent growled. 

"You play with fire, you're going to get burnt," the psychiatrist taunted.

"I'll be fine." Cabe glared at him. "I dare you to get the same and we'll see who's on fire in the morning."

"You're on."

Toby smirked as he waited to place their order. It technically wasn't gambling. And what Happy didn't know wouldn't hurt her. She owed him one for her shenanigans the night before anyway. He gripped the phone a little harder as the pictures she sent floated through his mind. Giving his head a shake, he listened as the phone rang in his ear, wishing life was as easy to order as a pizza.

_____

Toby came downstairs the next morning after spending most of the night in agony. Ugh, his stomach still was burning and churning. That last slice of pizza, with its double jalapeños, a liberal dose of Tabasco sauce, and a sprinkling of red pepper flakes, had been a huge mistake. And it was the thought of the immense suffering Cabe must be going through that got him motivated enough to face the "I told you so's" from Sylvester.

The main floor of the garage was empty except for the human calculator who was sitting at his desk staring at his computer. "Where is everyone?" the shrink asked.

Sly glanced in his direction for a second before returning to his screen. "You look like crap this morning." 

"Whoa, who peed in your cornflakes?" Toby wandered into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator in search of something to calm the fire in his gut. What he found inside was disappointing. There were all the now not so fresh fruit and vegetables Paige had prepared for Ralph. A half eaten sandwich that needed carbon dating to determine its age. An assortment of condiments. And someone had left about a teaspoon of milk in the plastic gallon jug.

With a sigh, he reached for the hazelnut creamer, sniff tested it, then drained its remaining contents. Grimacing, he walked toward his desk. "So where is everyone else?"

"Cabe and Ralph have been up for hours," said Sylvester. "They're building something up on the roof. And you do look like heck. I told you not to eat that pizza."

"I'm fine. But thanks for your thoughtful concern."

Toby wandered up to the top of the building, where he found the agent hammering two pieces of wood together and the boy genius painting something. "What's going on?" he asked when Cabe paused in his noisy task for a moment.

"I'm showing Ralph something I used to do when I was a kid."

"Oh, besides mammoth hunting and painting on cave walls?"

"Ha, ha, very funny." The older man shook his head. "Nope, we're building a fort using the box the new washer came in." He then resume his pounding.

"Hey, I was going to make something out of that." Toby shouted over the racket.

Cabe stopped again and chuckled. "You snooze, you lose, Doc." He pulled down his sunglasses. "You're looking mighty peaked this morning. How's your stomach?"

"Wonderful," the shrink lied. "How's yours?"

"Couldn't be better." Pushing his glasses back into place, he went back to hammering.

Toby came up behind Ralph, looking over his shoulder at the sign the youngster was painting. "‘No Girls Allowed' huh?"

"Cabe said every self-respecting fort needed one." The boy glanced over at the Homeland agent. "What if I want to invite my mom inside?" he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "She's technically a girl. And what about Happy? She'd just kick our asses and go inside anyway."

"First of all, you better not let your mom hear you say asses," said the psychiatrist. "Second, it's a rule that was made to be broken. Right, Cabe?"

"That's right." The agent grinned as he walked over to them. "I remember the time I let Karen Kowalski inside my tree fort," he said. "We, uh. . ." He glance at Ralph as his words ground to a halt.

"Made out?" asked the boy. He rolled his eyes. "I'm not a little kid, I'm almost 12. I know about sex and stuff."

Cabe looked like he swallowed an egg. Toby had to stifle a laugh once he got over his initial shock. "And just what do you know about ‘sex and stuff'?"

"There's kissing, and then inter. . ."

"Whoa, I'm going to have to stop you right there, pal," interrupted Toby. "I don't need to learn about the birds and the bees from an eleven-year old."

"What do birds and bees have to do with it?"

"Absolutely nothing, Ralph," replied the Homeland agent with a grin. "Absolutely nothing."

"So, Cabe, did you get to first base with Karen what's-her-name?" Toby waggled his eyebrows.

"Shut up, Doc."

"First base? What's baseball got to do with it?" Ralph glanced at the two older men as he shook his head condescendingly. "Man, are you guys confused." With a weary sigh, he set down his paintbrush. "I'm going to let this dry and go get something to eat."

Cabe and Toby watched in silence as the boy walked through the door before bursting into laughter.

"What's so funny?" asked Sylvester as he stepped out onto the roof a few minutes later. 

"Nothing," replied both men as they continued to chuckle. 

Sly shook his head. "Happy's sent the contents of one of roadies' phone. I thought you guys might be interested."

The shrink and the agent became serious then. "What are we waiting for?" asked Toby, adjusting his hat. "The sooner we nail these jerks, the sooner Happy can come back."

"And Walter and Paige," added Sylvester.

"Yeah, them too." The psychiatrist patted the human calculator on the shoulder as they all headed downstairs.

_____

It was early afternoon when Walter was checking the connections on a bank of mid-range speakers set behind the drummer's kit at the back of the stage. Between the cables and cords laying all over the floor and the amount of foot traffic, it surprised him anything stayed together. He wasn't the only one who had been tripped up. He'd even seen Akim catch his foot on a cord and almost fall on his face.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he then took off his flannel shirt and tied it around his waist. The heat from the electrical equipment added to the summer heat and humidity was almost unbearable. He plucked at his tee shirt which was clinging to his damp skin, the pockets of air he created cooling him a little.

Bending down to check if a plug was properly fitted, he was totally unprepared as a pair of hands grabbed his butt. Walter froze, his mind boggling at the thought of Paige doing something so bold. Taking a deep breath, he instantly knew it wasn't the liaison squeezing his rear, because instead of her usual scent of lavender, an overpowering flowery perfume filled his nose. An unpleasant odor he'd smelled before. . .

Spinning around, he came face to face with Zalina, who was smiling at him with what he could tell was wicked intent. "Nice ass," she said before placing her hands on his chest and shoved him to the wall, then pressed herself against him. 

Stunned, he averted his face at the last second as she tried to place her mouth on his. Her lips landed on his cheek instead, her tongue licking the side of his face. "You and me," she whispered, "right now. Let's do it."

A shudder of revulsion rippled through him and he pushed her an arm's length away. "Uh, sorry, I'm not interested."

Zalina looked him up and down before settling her gaze on the crotch of his jeans. "I could make you interested," she said, reaching her hand toward his groin.

Walter shook his head as he sidestepped away from her. "I doubt it. You're a mediocre singer at best, getting by on your pleasingly symmetrical features and larger than average breasts. Judging by your behavior, you've had a higher than average amount of lovers, something I don't find appealing, considering it increases the odds you've acquired a sexually transmitted disease."

Her mouth dropped open for a second, then she slapped his face. "You fucking bastard. What are you, gay or something?"

"No, I'm attracted to women." He ducked his head, trying to repress a smile as he thought of Paige. He couldn't imagine wanting anyone else. "I, uh, I kinda already have a woman, er. . .a girlfriend."

Movement caught his eye and he glanced up to see Paige standing several feet behind Zalina, an odd smile on her face. _Oh, shit_. Heat swept over him from head to toe, making him sweat even more. How long had she been there? How much had she overheard? 

His questions became moot when the back up singer swirled around and saw the liaison. "You fucking bitch," she hissed as she started toward Paige with clenched fists. "I'm gonna to kick your ass."

Walter followed Zalina, intending to keep her from harming Paige. He attempted to grab the irate woman, only to have Paige get to her first, punching the singer right in the nose.


	10. Chapter 10

_Walter followed Zalina, intending to keep her from harming Paige. He attempted to grab the irate woman, only to have Paige get to her first, punching the singer right in the nose._

"You bitch!"

Zalina's hands flew up to touch her injured nose, and her fingers came away stained with blood. "You fucking whore!" She launched herself at Paige, fingernails first, but the liaison shoved the other woman, knocking her on her butt. 

"No means no." Paige stood over the singer, her hands on her hips, bursting with righteous indignation. She nodded in Walter's direction. "He said he wasn't interested. Go hit on someone else."

"Go fuck yourself," snarled Zalina as she scrambled to her feet. She tossed her head contemptuously. "He's not interested in you either, bitch. He's already got another girl." Throwing a heated glance at him, she added, "That what he says anyway. I still think he's probably gay. And I'm still gonna kick your ass."

The blonde stomped off, muttering what were probably Russian curses. Paige turned to look at Walter, smiling as she noticed his awestruck expression, his eyes like saucers. Sauntering up to him, she came to a halt about a foot away, noticing how his t-shirt clung damply to his chest. It suddenly became quite warm and she fought the urge to fan herself.

"Is she threatening you?" She could hear the worry in his voice and see it etched on his face. "You don't have to put up with being harassed. I can call Cabe and . . ."

"No, don't," she interrupted his overprotective yet sweet tirade. "She's all talk. I can handle her." Her right hand throbbed, and she smiled as she showed it to him. "I did handle her. She has no right to harass you either."

"Uh, I-I. . .um, thanks," Walter said, staring down at the floor. "I, uh, should get back to w-work."

She moved closer, gliding her hand over the unexpectedly sinewy muscles of his upper arm, and he swallowed nervously. "So you have a girlfriend, huh? Anyone I know?"

God, he was adorable when he blushed. She knew it wasn't nice to tease him like this but. . . She couldn't help herself. 

Flicking his eyes between hers and the ground, he stammered, "Um, I-I just said t-that to. . . So sh-she'd leave m-me alone. . ." He finally met her gaze, gulping before adding, "I-I'm truly not interested in her. She. . ."

". . .came onto you," Paige finished for him. "I know, Walter." She gave his arm a squeeze before lowering her hand. Biting her lip when she noted his disappointment, she slid her fingers flirtatiously across his shoulders. "What if someone else came onto you?" she asked huskily, stepping nearer until their bodies were only separated by an inch or so. "Would you be interested?"

He glanced up at her, inhaling deeply as he trembled under her hands. "M-Maybe." The intensity of his stare caused desire to swirl low in her belly, making her knees wobble. "Depends on wh-who it w-was."

She knew she was playing with fire, but she didn't care if she got burned. Heat was already radiating off him in waves, telling her he was as hot and bothered as she was. "What if it was me?"she managed to whisper into his ear.

"I-I w-would be. . .I would be in-interested. V-Very interested." 

Then his lips were on hers as he pulled her tight, confirming he was as aroused as she was. Threading her hands through his dark curls, the kiss deepened as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. He tasted like coffee, and his sweaty, musky scent sent a shiver down her spine. Her back landed up against the stage wall, her short black skirt riding upward as he pressed himself between her legs.

"Paige." He breathed out her name as he kissed her neck, her pulse beating wildly against his mouth. They shouldn't be doing this, he scolded himself as his hands traveled upward, outlining her curves. They were going to get caught, blow their cover, let a rebellion hap. . . His brain came to screeching halt as all cognizant or coherent thoughts were driven from it as she began grinding herself on him.

She gasped as he brushed his thumbs over the hardened tips of her breasts through her thin silk blouse. He thrust against the apex of her thighs as she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. She was panting, shallow little breaths, alternately invoking his name and God's as she rocked in rhythm with him. She was so beautiful; her lavender scent, the moans she was making in her throat, her nails grazing the back of his neck. . . He was close, so close. . .

Then an intense shudder rippled through her, her mouth dropping open as her eyes grew wide with amazement. She clutched at his arms as she sagged against him. "Oh, God, Walter," she whispered breathlessly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Oh, God."

"Are you okay?" he asked, pushing his own needs aside as he worried he'd hurt her somehow. She was shaky and limp and out of breath. Something had to be wrong with her. 

"Yes. Oh, God, yes." Lifting her head, she touched her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss, rekindling his desire, leaving him a little frustrated and edgy when she broke away. "Walter," she murmured against his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"S-Sorry? W-Why?" 

He watched in confusion as her cheeks turned pink. "Because. . .I. . .and you. . .you didn't. . .and. . . Oh, God." Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she raked them up through his hair. "Tonight, after the concert. . . Would you, uh, be interested in. . .in coming up to my room?"

Walter was so stunned he forgot to breathe for a moment or two. "Yes," he blurted out once he gathered up what was left of his wits. 

Smiling shyly, she leaned forward and gave him a peck on the mouth. "Okay, then. I-I better go check in with Darby," she said, her face still glowing. "I'll see you later." 

"Okay." He stared as she turned and walked away, the swaying of her hips holding him in thrall until she was out of his line of vision. Bracing his arms against the wall, he gulped for air, trying to get himself under control. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? He didn't want to get his hopes up in case he was once again misreading her signals. 

Although, after what had just happened between them, he was positive he was interpreting the signs correctly. And all those signs indicated Paige Dineen wanted to have sex with him. 

Oh, boy.

_____

Tossing a glance over her shoulder to confirm she was out of Walter's sight, Paige slumped against the nearest wall. Oh, God, she'd finally been driven over the edge, not to mention to an orgasm by his awkward yet enthusiastic kisses and caresses. All while fully clothed and standing up. She quivered in anticipation as she imagined what he could do when they were both naked and on a bed.

Breathing deeply, she tried to clear her mind of its erotic daydreams as she glanced around backstage. She hadn't lied to Walter, she really did need to find Darby and get her schedule for the day.

Paige wandered around the venue, which was deserted except for a couple of surly roadies who had grunted at her when she asked if they knew where the manager was. With a shrug at their rudeness, she continued her search. She ended up in a corridor of offices, their doors all closed as she passed by. Deciding to look for a bathroom, Paige turned a corner, coming to a halt when she overheard an angry voice speaking in Russian.

Creeping closer, she discovered Darby standing in front of the men's room, talking into his cell phone. He sounded really ticked off at whomever was on the other end of the line. She heard him say what she thought was a name several times. Mila. 

She bit her lip, wavering between slipping away before she got caught eavesdropping or listening to more of a conversation she didn't understand. Not getting caught won out and she spun on her heel, ducking back down the empty hallway. Peeking around the corner, she watched as the manager ended the call, muttering to himself as he walked toward her. 

Paige took a deep breath and stepped out from her hiding place. "Oh, there you are," she said brightly before pretending to frown. "Is something wrong?" She doubted he would tell her, but, she thought optimistically, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

He glanced up sharply, his disturbed expression evaporating as he plastered a smile onto his broad face. "No, everything fine," he said, obviously lying. "You looking for me?"

"Yes," she said before asking him about the day's schedule. She listened with only half an ear though, wishing Walter had been with her to interpret the phone call. Because everything certainly did not sound fine. It sounded like someone named Mila was in trouble. Which begged the questions, who was Mila and why was she in trouble?

Sighing, Paige returned her attention to Darby as he rattled off the itinerary for the day in his broken English.

_____

Paige walked off the stage with the roar of the crowd still ringing in her ears. The excitement flowing through her body had nothing to do with the performance she'd been a part of, and everything to do with Walter and the fact they were going to sleep together.

After their encounter earlier that day, she'd only caught glimpses of him as he went about his duties as a sound technician. Every time she laid eyes on him, her heart started pounding and she found it hard to breathe and parts of her grew all tingly, making it hard to concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing.

It got so bad, at one point she'd thought about sabotaging her microphone so he'd have to come over and fix it, just so she'd have an excuse to stand near him. Smell him. Maybe even ‘accidentally' touch him. Only the thought of Zalina also being near him kept her from pulling a wire loose, although she'd still been very, very tempted.

She groaned inwardly, hoping he hadn't come to his senses and changed his mind, when someone grabbed her arm from behind. She knew it wasn't Walter even before she turned around. "Oh, Yuri," she said, adding insincerely, "You were great tonight."

"But you haven't slept with me yet, baby," the lead singer purred, rubbing his hand up her arm and squeezing her shoulder. "I thought you were coming to my room last night. I stayed up all night waiting for you to join me."

Dammit, she'd forgotten all about his sleazy demand. "Oh, sorry, I was, uh, washing my hair," she improvised, using an excuse she learned in high school to get out of unwanted dates. "I hope you didn't get too lonely," she said, surprised she could say it without throwing up.

"If I did, it was your fault." Yuri moved closer and she instinctively stepped back. "If you want to keep singing for me, you need to be nice to me." He put his hands on her ass and pressed her against him. She started to struggle but realized it would be pointless. He was stronger than she was, and was probably perverted enough to enjoy making her feel helpless. 

"I can be nice," she replied, her stomach churning at the thought of what ‘being nice' to him would entail. But she couldn't avoid this. She had to clone his phone, it was part of what she was there to do. But the device was in her suite and she'd have to stall him until she could retrieve it. "Why don't I come up to your room in an hour? I want to freshen up first."

He smiled lazily, his hooded eyes leering at her as he held up a finger. "One hour. I don't like to be kept waiting. You no show. . .you fired."

"I'll be there." She exhaled with relief as Yuri released her and walked away, calling out to his other band mates. If she was lucky, maybe he'd spend the next hour getting wasted with his friends, and would either forget their meeting, pass out, or be unable to perform. If she were super lucky, maybe all three.

"So, you're going to let Yuri fuck you?" Paige spun around to see Zalina standing behind, a triumphant sneer marring her pretty face. "I knew you were whore."

"It's none of your business who I sleep with," she snapped, glaring at the other woman.

"Then it's none of yours who I fuck either." The blonde singer smiled smugly.

"You stay away from Walter," snarled Paige as she stepped up to confront Zalina. 

"You can't stop me." The singer laughed. "You're gonna be busy getting screwed over by Yuri."

Paige stared at her, noticing the woman's slightly swollen nose liberally covered with powder to hide the bruising. "I've already bloodied your nose," she pointed out. "Are you sure you want to risk two black eyes and some missing teeth?"

"Go to hell." With that, Zalina stormed off, leaving a cloud of her sickening perfume behind.

Growling in frustration, Paige curled her hands into fists. The thought of him having sex with the blonde singer made her sick to her stomach. But she couldn't worry about him now. She needed to worry about keeping herself from being raped by Yuri.

_____

Walter rushed into the hotel room where the obligatory after-concert party was being held. Scanning the suite, he spied Happy sitting on a couch, with Akim on one side and Anya on the other.

"Damn, I'm glad we don't have to break down until tomorrow," she was saying as he hurried over. "I'm wiped out." Her companions agreed as the mechanic took a swig of her beer.

"I need to talk to you," Walter interrupted. "Now."

With a shrug, Happy got to her feet. "I'll be right back," she tossed over her shoulder as she followed the genius into a deserted corner of the suite. "What's up your butt?" she asked, holding up her bottle. "This is my first one, by the way, Grandpa."

Walter waved away the insult. "Have you seen Paige?" 

"Not since the end of the concert," she answered. "Why? What's up?"

"I think she's in trouble," he said, panic threatening to overwhelm him. "We, uh. . .we were supposed to. . .um. . ."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?" The mechanic pulled out a shiny square package from the pocket of his jeans. "Hot damn, O'Brien," she said as she dangled it in front of him. "Are you and Dineen gonna. . .?" 

His face on fire, he tried to snatch the condom away from her, but she kept it out of his reach. He'd bought one of each variety from a vending machine in one of the venue's bathrooms, since he had no idea which kind he was supposed to use or if Paige was on any kind of birth control. It hadn't been something they'd discussed while planning their rendezvous. 

"I-It's none of y-your business, but she. . .uh. . .yeah." He aimed his gaze at the carpet as he ran his hand over the back of his head.

"Glad you finally took my advice." The mechanic held out the package, which he grabbed and stuffed back into his pocket with the others. "Here's a bit more. Don't use that one. They break too easily." She smirked. "Hey, if I see Paige, I'll tell her you're looking for her, okay?." 

Saluting him with her beer, Happy wandered back across the room. Walter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. She was okay. She had to be. He'd find her.

"I know where she is."

He jerked around as Zalina blew her taunting words into his ear. "Where?" he demanded to know, flinching away when the back up singer tried to put her hands on his chest.

The blonde pouted at his rejection. "Maybe I not tell you. Maybe you should be nice to me." Once again she attempted to touch him. 

Walter grabbed her wrists. "Tell me where Paige is."

Zalina wrested herself from his grasp and smiled evilly at him. "She's having sex with Yuri."


	11. Chapter 11

_Zalina wrested herself from his grasp and smiled evilly at him. "She's having sex with Yuri."_

"No. That's not possible." Walter refused to accept Paige willingly agreed to sleep with the lead singer. He was certain she was only cloning the other man's phone. But she should have told him, she shouldn't have gone in without backup. The thought she'd willingly placed herself in danger filled him with dread.

"It's the truth." The back up singer shrugged. "I don't care if you believe me or no. What's it to you anyway?"

"Because I love her." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn't have said them. Not because they weren't true. . . They were. He barely let himself think of how much he loved her, let alone say it aloud. Oh shit, he groaned inwardly, he'd probably just blown his cover.

"How you love someone you just met two days ago?" Zalina demanded, strengthening his certainty he'd messed up. He needed to dissemble. . .and fast.

"Uh, I, um. . .I actually met her over two years ago." Sticking with the truth as closely as possible was always a good option when lying. At least that's what Toby always said. "She was w-with another, ah, band then. I, uh, I. . ." 

"What, you have crush on her?" the blonde sneered. "Ha, that bitch doesn't care about you if she's letting Yuri fuck her. Forget her." Her face changed then and she sidled up to him, rubbing her breasts against his arm. "Let's you and me get a drink and get to know each other better." She slid her fingers down the front of his shirt, stopping when she reached the waistband of his jeans. 

"I don't drink," Walter stated, stepping back from her again. Her touch confused him; his body reacted to it yet his mind was repulsed by it. He knew which one of the two was more intelligent, and which one he was going to heed.

"You don't drink, you don't fuck. What kind of man are you anyway?" She was glaring at him with a disgusted expression. 

"A smart one." 

"A loser, you mean." She looked him up and down as though she was stripping him naked. "I'm done wasting my time with you," she said scornfully. "I'm going to find me a real man."

She stalked away, glancing over her shoulder with a snarl on her lips. Walter guessed he was supposed to be disappointed by her change of attitude but all he really felt was relief as he sagged against the wall behind him. 

A relief that was short-lived as Paige and her predicament came rushing to the forefront of his brain again. He wanted to go find her, make sure she was okay, beat up the lead singer just for thinking about touching her. But he didn't know which room was Yuri's. He could hardly go up and down the halls, knocking on doors. He didn't know who he could ask without rousing suspicion. Frustration raged through him and he pounded his fists against the wall.

"Hey, noob." Walter looked up to see Mikhail standing in front of him, holding two beers. The roadie glanced over his shoulder. "Zalina can be real bitch," he said, lowering his voice. "Good fuck though, huh?"

"Uh. . ." Unsure how to answer the other man's question, Walter just shrugged. Mikhail held out one of the bottles. 

"Here, have beer. What's that saying you Americans have? Down your sorrows?"

"Something like that," said Walter as he took the offered alcohol. "Thanks."

"You know, you okay guy, noob." Slapping the genius on the arm, the roadie turned and waved at someone across the room, leaving Walter alone again with his worry about Paige. He realized even if she had told him of her plans, he couldn't have done anything to stop her. She was the only one of them who could close enough to Yuri.

He was just going to have to wait it out and hope for the best. Opening the beer, he paused a moment as its sharp yeasty smell hit his nose before lifting it to his lips.

_____

Paige tentatively knocked on Yuri's door. There were only five minutes of her hour left. She'd changed into the least sexy clothing she'd brought with her; a pair of old jeans and a baggy tee she usually slept in. Not that the sloppy body-concealing outfit would stop the lead singer from pouncing on her. But it was like a protective layer she could use to deflect him while she cloned his phone.

Patting the pocket which held the device, she jumped as the door flew open and Yuri was standing there, leering down at her. He was wearing a nearly unbuttoned shirt tucked into tight leather pants, the ever-present bulge on prominent display.

"Hey, babe," he said as he rubbed the hair on his chest. "You ready to party with Yuri?"

"Uh, sure." Paige stepped inside, flinching as he shut and locked it behind her. He led her over to the couch, inviting her to sit down She did, nervously perching herself on the edge of the cushion. Oh, God, she wished she'd had the chance to let Walter know what she was doing but she'd hadn't seen him since sound check. He might not have liked her plan, but what other choice did they have? 

"You like vodka?" Yuri didn't wait for her answer as he grabbed a bottle and poured some into two glasses. Handing one to her, he plopped down next to her. "Relax," he advised, gulping down his drink in one shot. "I won't bite. . .unless you want me to."

Restraining herself from rolling her eyes at the tired line, she instead smiled vacantly at him. "Oh, you're so funny," she lied before taking a big sip from her glass. A huge mistake, as the alcohol burned its way down her throat and she sputtered. "Oh, wow. . .that's. . .uh, that's really strong," she managed to gasp out after a few uncomfortable moments had passed.

"Real vodka," he boasted, filling his cup again. "Not like the shit they have here in US."

"Uh, yeah, it's really strong," she said, setting her drink down on the coffee table. "Uh, so you wanted to discuss my singing career?" Inwardly she winced at how naive she sounded. But Yuri seemed to fall for it as he moved closer.

"Da, you have a really good voice," he said, placing his hand on her thigh. "You and me. . . We could make beautiful music together."

Paige threw up a little in her mouth at the corny yet suggestive line. Swallowing back her disgust, she gazed up at him with what she hoped was a dreamy expression. "Oh, you want us to sing a duet? Yuri, I'm so flattered," she said in a voice so ditzy, she felt her IQ drop several points. 

"Huh?" She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his confusion. "Nyet. No, not a duet. . ." He heaved a weary sigh. "I mean you and me. . ."

A loud riff filled the room, one Paige recognized as beginning of one of the band's songs. "Shit, just a minute." Yuri got up off the couch, walked into the bedroom, coming back out with his cell in his hand. "This fucking better be important," he snarled into it before switching to Russian. She didn't have a clue what he was saying, but she could tell by the tone of his voice he was pissed off about something.

Reaching into her pocket, Paige pressed the button to turn on the cloning device, then glanced at her watch. Three minutes, she just needed three minutes, then she could escape Yuri's evil clutches. She suppressed a giggle at the melodramatic thought then sobered, acknowledging the fact she was in over her head. She glanced again at her watch. Two and a half minutes to go. . .

She was so caught up in watching the time, she didn't realize Yuri had gone back into other room until he was almost five feet away. Hopping up off the couch, she moved closer, hoping he wouldn't notice she was following him. Or worse, think she was eager to join him in his bedroom. Scanning the suite, she spied a potted palm next to one end of the sofa. She snatched up her glass and tipped its contents into the straw surrounding the base of the artificial plant.

Paige was about to pour more vodka into her glass when Yuri emerged from the bedroom. "You want more, huh?" He took her cup from her. "Here, let me get it for you." 

Flicking her eyes to her watch, she sagged with relief the three minutes were up. Praying she'd been close enough the whole time to send the signal, she shook her head. 

"No, that's okay," she said. "I, uh, I should be going." 

"But you just get here." The singer pointed to the couch. "Sit down. Relax. Let Yuri take care of you." He leered suggestively at her, looking so like a over-the-top villain from a cartoon she had to keep herself from laughing. Wondering how much vodka it would take for him to be drunk enough to pass out, she did as he requested. 

With his back to her, he refilled their glasses. Paige reached down into her pocket, turning off the device, glancing up just in time to see Yuri put several drops of something into one of the drinks. Her breath caught in her throat. The son of a bitch was going to roofie her? He had groupies throwing themselves at him, why would he have to resort to drugging someone like her? She was hardly one of the barely legal teenagers the Russian usually favored.

"Here you go," he said, bringing the bottle with him along with the two glasses as he sat down so close he was practically in her lap. 

"Uh, thanks." Paige reluctantly accepted the vodka.

"So, where were we?" he asked, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. Time to act stupid again, she thought with a weary sigh. "You were asking me to do a duet with you," she said, batting her eyelashes.

He placed his cup next to hers. "Da, we can do a duet between. . ." 

"Oh, that would be awesome. What song do you think we should do?" She bounced a little on the sofa, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, I know the perfect song! Leather and. . ."

Her words were cut off as Yuri grabbed her, putting his mouth on hers and forcing his slimy tongue between her lips. Gagging at the sudden intrusion, Paige flailed her arms, nearly knocking the glasses from the coffee table. An idea struck her then, one that could only be pulled off if she kept him distracted. Resisting the urge to fight him, she let him manhandle her as she reached for the cups with one hand. It took a couple of tries, but she finally switched the glasses. 

Abruptly, Yuri pushed her away, and for a terrifying moment, she thought he'd seen what she'd done. Then he licked her neck up to her ear, giving it a not so gentle nip. "I'm not talking about singing. I'm talking about if you want to keeping singing for Zhalo, you need to fuck me."

"Oh, God," she whispered as she started shaking, suppressing the urge to throw up. She needed to get out, and getting the blond singer to drink the drugged glass of alcohol was her only hope. Praying he would follow her lead, she picked up her vodka and pretended to take a sip.

Yuri grabbed his cup and swallowed it in one gulp. "Da, da, drink up," he said, pouring more into his glass, and draining that as well. He slammed the cup on the table. "Come on, baby, let's do it." He didn't give her a chance to reply as he shoved her back onto the sofa and fell on top of her. He kissed her, once again ramming his tongue into her mouth.

Instinctively, she tried to push him off of her, but he was much stronger than his thin frame led her to believe. Panic set in as he groped her breasts and tore at her clothes, and she frantically wondered how long it would take whatever it was he'd put in her drink to take effect.

He was sliding his hands under her shirt, oblivious to her lack of response, when he suddenly shook himself. "Wha. . .wha the fuuu. . ." he slurred angrily. Renewing his rough fondling, he attempted to cram his tongue into her mouth, missing it and instead ending up licking her chin. Paige grabbed his hair, jerking it upward just in time to see his eyes roll back into his head as he collapsed onto her.

Letting out the breath she didn't realize she was holding, she shoved at him, finally pushing him onto his back. She jumped up off the couch, checking her pocket to make sure she still had the cloning device. Pulling it out, she rubbed her thumb across its shiny metal surface. 

What if Yuri had wandered out of range during her attempt to clone his phone? The transmission would have been cut off and would have needed to be reset. _Oh, crap_. Darting a glance at the unconscious singer, she took a deep breath before dashing into his bedroom. His cell was sitting on a chest of drawers and she wasted no time activating her device, placing it next to the phone. 

Three minutes. Glimpsing at her watch, she began to pace. He should be out for much longer than that. She peeked back out into the other room, where Yuri was still passed out on the couch. His shirt was unbuttoned almost to his waist and his leather trousers still bulged obscenely. 

She stalked over to him, yanking out his shirt from his waistband before popping open the rest of the buttons. If she made it appear like he'd had sex with her, hopefully he'd leave her alone, because she didn't think she could handle doing this a second time. With a grimace, she undid the snap of his pants and pulled down the zipper, which revealed several pairs of socks wadded together. 

Letting out a loud laugh, she then bit her lip in a vain attempt to stop her giggles. Fortunately, Yuri remained comatose as she removed the bundled socks and tossed them behind the sofa. Another glance at her watch told her she had a minute left. Going back into the bedroom, she fidgeted, keeping her eye on the remaining seconds.

A groan from the adjoining room made her heart skip a beat. She poked her head out and saw the lead singer shift restlessly. Oh, God. He couldn't wake up now, time was almost up.

After what felt like the longest thirty seconds of her life, she snatched up the cloning device and headed toward the suite's exit. She'd had just gently closed the door behind her when she heard a familiar voice call her name. "Paige?"

Spinning around, she saw Walter standing at the other end of the hallway, a panicked expression on his face. She breathed a sight of relief. "Walter." 

In a matter of seconds, she was safe in his arms.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is the 1st time in I've written from Happy's POV. She's a tough nut not only to crack, but for me to write. Hopefully I did okay.

_In a matter of seconds, she was safe in his arms._

"Oh, God, Paige." Walter wrapped his arms tighter around her before taking her face in his hands. "Are you okay? He didn't. . .didn't. . ." If that bastard had hurt her, he didn't care if he put their mission in jeopardy. He was going to kill the asshole.

"Walter, I'm fine," she said, stroking his jaw with her fingers. "Really. Truly." She lowered her hands and pulled the cloning device from her pocket. "I did his phone." She was so proud of herself, he could hear it in her voice, see it in her face. And part of him was proud of her too. Inhaling deeply, he knew it was insane to be upset with her but. . . 

He took the device from her. "You took too big of a risk," he scolded. "You should have told me or Happy. If he'd. . ." 

"But he didn't." Paige rubbed his upper arms in what she must have thought was a reassuring manner but only served to agitate him more. "He tried but. . ." She smiled, shrugging as her eyes sparkled with amusement. "He tried to drug me but I switched the glasses. He should be out cold for the rest of the night."

Failing to see the humor in the situation, Walter embraced her once again. "Paige, he could have. . ."

She slid her hands up his chest, up the sides of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair. "But he didn't. Walter. . ." He'd opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him with a quick kiss. "Walter, I'm okay. His phone is cloned, it's done and we don't have to worry about him anymore." 

She pressed her lips to his again, and he could taste the biting sting of alcohol on her tongue as she entwined it with his. A whimper escaped him as she pulled back, smiling up at him with a look in her eyes he'd come to learn meant she was aroused. Desire surged through him and all the blood rushed away from his head.

"My invitation still stands, you know," she whispered, nipping at his bottom lip.

"In-Invitation?" He was so befuddled, he had no idea what she was talking about.

"You remember earlier, when we were behind those speakers. . ."

Oh, _that_ invitation. "Uh, yes. . ." He stared at her, recalling every wonderful second of what had happened. "So y-you still w-want to. . .? Y-You're not drunk, are you?"

"I could ask the same of you," she replied, reminding him of the beer he'd worriedly sipped earlier. "And, yes, I still want to, don't you?" She smoothed her hands across his chest. "I'd like to take a shower first though, you know. . ." She shuddered a little then nuzzled his neck, then along his shoulder. "I think you could use one, too."

He sniffed himself surreptitiously and nodded. "O-Okay."

"We could share, for efficiency's sake," she purred into his ear. "I know how you love to be efficient."

His mouth opened but he couldn't form any words. Not that any were necessary. He knew what she wanted, and while the thought of engaging in intercourse with her excited him, it also terrified him. 

Then her lips were on his, driving any thoughts from his head except how she felt in his arms, her body pressed against his, their tongues tangling in an erotic dance. He scarcely noticed when the breath was driven from his lungs as he landed with his back up against the wall, as he was barely breathing anyway. His hands cupped her bottom, drawing her closer. She snaked her leg around his, a groan tearing from his throat as she started grinding herself on him. 

Raucous laughter erupting from inside a nearby room brought them both back to what remained of their senses. "Y-Your room," he managed to gasp out. "Where. . ."

She was panting as heavily as he was. "Around. . .the corner." She pointed vaguely to the end of the hall.

"Good." He didn't think he'd be able to walk very far, his legs seemed to have turned to jelly. It didn't help matters they were still clinging to each other and she was leaning on him, pinning him to the wall.

"W-We should go," he murmured, concerned if they didn't retreat to the privacy of her room soon, he'd take her right there in the hallway. 

"I know." She made no effort to move though. "I don't think I can walk."

His mouth curved into a grin. "I don't think I can either."

"Oh, God." She started giggling. "Maybe I am drunk." She shook her head. "Come on."

Somehow they managed to traverse the thirty or so feet to her room. Paige inserted the key card into the lock and pushed the door open. Walter watched as she stepped inside, his heart pounding. They were really going to do this. He was finally going to be with the woman he loved. The thought rooted him to the spot.

She turned around and came back toward him. "Are you getting cold feet?" she asked.

"No, my feet are warm." Too warm. A wave of heat swept through the rest of him and he began to sweat. His state of panic only grew when she laughed. 

"It's a figure of speech, Walter," she said, stepping toward him and slid her arms around his neck, stroking her fingers through his hair. His body responded to her caresses, as it always did when she touched him. 

"I love you," he blurted out, forcing himself to look into her eyes. Fearing he would see rejection or more laughter, instead he saw shimmering tears and wondered what he'd done to cause them. 

He didn't get a chance to think on it for very long as her lips and body crushed his, his worry replaced by lust. The kiss was entirely too short for his liking as she lifted her mouth.

"I love you, too, Walter." She wiped at her cheeks as she pulled back, offering him her hand. "Come in and I'll show you how much."

_Oh, boy_. He gulped nervously as he entwined his fingers with hers. "Okay." 

He followed her inside. "Oops, almost forgot," she said as she was about to shut the door. 

Walter watched Paige hang the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the knob before firmly pulling it closed.

_____

A persistent buzzing, like a annoying insect, kept interrupting Happy's dream about welding a pair of mint-condition handlebars onto her Harley. She tried swatting the air around her and ended up hitting her nose, startling herself awake.

She heard the buzz again and realized it was her phone. Taking a minute to gather her wits, she glanced around the room. She was still in the suite where the party had been going on, sitting on a couch with Akim's head on one of her shoulders and Anya's on the other. The roadie has his arm around her waist and the backup singer was clinging onto her hip.

As gracefully as she could, the mechanic extracted herself from her two companions. The three of them had spent the evening flirting and drinking and passing a joint, and she vaguely remembered kissing both of them at one point or another. There had been talk of going to Anya's room to party in private but by then, they'd all been too high to actually carry out the plan.

Her head felt like it was floating, her mouth tasted like an ashtray, and she'd almost had a ménage à trois with two people who might be smuggling guns out of the country to start a rebellion. Dammit. Walter was right. She was out of control. Having to turn down Toby's proposal had broken something inside her, unleashing something wild she didn't know if she could tame. 

But before she could dwell more deeply on her reckless behavior, her cell rang again. She yanked it out of her pocket, stepping over sleeping bodies lying on the floor as she headed toward the door.

"Happy?"

"Hey, Sly, do you have any idea what time it is?" She walked out into the hall.

"It's 9 am." The human calculator sounded confused. "Why?"

Happy rolled her eyes. The big loveable doofus had no concept of staying up late and sleeping in. "Nothing. What's up?" she asked.

"Where's Walter? I've been trying to reach him for hours." Panic had begun to seep into his voice.

"I haven't seen him since just after the concert. I should be seeing him soon. We're supposed to be back at the venue by ten to load up the equipment." Searching through her foggy brain, she recalled their last conversation. "He was pretty worked up about finding Paige. Maybe he found her and they. . . He did have a pocket full of condoms." She chuckled when Sylvester choked like he was being strangled.

"Oh. . . Ew." Happy laughed again as she heard him pump out a couple of squirts of hand sanitizer. As if he could scrub the thought of Walter and Paige doing the dirty from his mind as easily as washing his hands.

"You didn't call to discuss our co-workers' sex life, did you?"

"No," Sly replied, sounding squicked out. "No, I wanted to let you guys know the roadie's phone was clean. Or at least clean of any info about weapons deal. There was pornography on it so filthy I wanted to take ten showers after I scrolled through it."

"So Akim was just bragging?"

"So it's Akim, huh?" 

"Shut up."

The human calculator chuckled. "Yeah, the only outside deals I saw were scoring drugs and arranging for groupies to meet members of the band."

"I didn't think he was in on it anyway. He's a pretty decent guy, just a little perverted."

"Who's a decent guy but a little perverted?"

Oh, shit, she hadn't realized Sylvester had her on speaker. It was too early in the morning to deal with the smart ass shrink. "One of the other roadies. Akim."

"Oh, thought you were talking about me." Toby said with a touch of bitterness in his tone.

"I'm going to let you two talk," announced Sly, his chair creaking over the connection.

"Not much to talk about," Happy said as she paced the hotel hallway. "We're still coming up empty on who's behind the weapons deals."

"I want to hear more about this Akim." 

She closed her eyes guiltily. "He's my boss. Kind of like how Walter is my boss. He kept me from being fired."

"What you'd do?" asked the shrink.

"Saved Paige's ass by setting off a firework." A door behind her opened, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the blonde backup singer exit one of the rooms. The one who'd been trying to get her hooks into Walter, still dressed in her clothes from the night before and looking like crap. "Listen, I gotta go."

"Okay," Toby said. "I miss you."

"Yeah, same." She ended the call before the doc got too mushy. Gripping her cell tightly, she started heading toward the elevator, wondering where she could get a cup of coffee.

"Hey, you. Roadie chick." Happy turned to see the singer bearing down on her. "You seen Anya?"

"Uh, yeah, she's still sleeping. Back there." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the suite where the party had been. "Hey," she said as the other woman stepped away. "You know which room belongs to the new girl?"

"Maybe. Why you want to know?"

"Uh, I borrowed a shirt from her the other day and I want to give it back."

"She's in 225. I hope you put big stain on it and it's ruined," the singer sneered before flouncing off.

"Me-ow," muttered Happy under her breath. With a shrug, she headed down the hallway to deliver a not-so-discreet wake-up call to her two team mates.

_____

Walter rolled over, waking up when he encountered something soft and warm blocking his progress. _Paige_. He opened his eyes to see her curled up beside him, looking so beautiful and peaceful as she slept.

Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, he noted it was nearly nine and he was going to have to get up and leave her. Because of their schedules, he wouldn't see her alone again for hours. There would an occasional glimpse across a stage, surrounded by the rest of the band and crew. And even if they could find a few moments together, it wouldn't be enough. 

He wrapped his arms around her, frustration building up inside him. Not being able to touch her, taste her, be inside her. . . A low groan escaped his lips, and he stilled as she began to stir.

"You okay?" She snuggled closer, placing a kiss on his stubble covered cheek. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her lips on his skin. 

"I love you." He grimaced as he said those words again. He'd lost count of how many times he'd uttered them since he'd stepped into her room. It was like they were looping around in his head and were the only ones his tongue could wrap itself around. "I'm sorry. . ."

"No, don't ever be sorry about that." She slid her arms behind his neck. "I love you, too." Raking her fingers through his hair, her mouth curled into a smile. "You. . .this. . .was amazing, " she said before kissing him on the nose.

"You were amazing," he parroted back, mentally cursing himself. He was acting like he didn't have two brain cells to rub together. The previously preposterous phrase ‘it blew my mind' made sense to him now as his mental faculties seemed to have been reduced to rubble. "So, uh. . .I don't have much to compare. . . I mean. . . I haven't. . ."

"Walter, it's okay. It's been a long time for me, too."

"Oh, uh. . .so you didn't. . ."

"I didn't sleep with Tim if that's what you're asking."

"It's none of my business," he said, relief she hadn't been intimate with the interloper sweeping over him. "But that's not what. . . I mean I haven't. . .ever." 

"Oh." He glanced up to see her shocked expression. Then she bit her lip as tears formed in her eyes. "Walter. . .I. . ."

Whatever she'd been about to say was cut off by three loud knocks on the door. "Hey, unless you two want everyone to know you did the nasty last night," hissed Happy's voice through the thin wood, "you'd better move your asses."

"Oh, God."

"Oh, boy."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've think I've written from Cabe's POV once or twice, but only a sentence or two. It's considerably more in this chapter. Hopefully I've done him justice. And I have to give some credit to my daughter Alex again. Toby's shenanigans later in this chapter are part of a story she and I came up with years ago for another character we'd created while getting ready for school in the morning. She's given me her blessing to use it here.

Paige stared at Walter, knowing his mortified expression matched her own. She was suddenly aware she was naked, a fact that hadn't bothered her only moments earlier. Probably because only moments before, Walter had dropped a bombshell she hadn't had time to recover from before Happy's interruption.

"Uh, I-I'd better go." Walter started to slide out of the bed, stopping as he came to the same realization she had, doing a double take at his lap. Pulling on the sheet to cover himself, he searched for his clothes.

An awkward silence filled the room as they both got dressed. Walter's confession had blown her mind. He'd been so wonderful, she certainly wouldn't have believed it had been his first time if he hadn't told her. He only stated facts, so it had to be true. It had been nearly a decade since she'd had sex, maybe she'd been too wrapped up in her own insecurities to detect any inexperience on his part.

She had noticed he'd been a lot more confident the second time. . .and the third. Whatever aversion he'd had to physical contact appeared to flown out the window, at least where she was concerned. Smiling as she remembered how he'd responded to her touch, she glanced at him. He was tucking his t-shirt into his jeans when he suddenly jammed his hand in his pocket and his face paled.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Uh, I. . . We. . ." He dug further down into his pocket. What the hell did he have in there? she wondered. Only one way to find out. . .

She moved around the bed to stand in front of him, tugging his arm upward, then plunged her hand into the pocket. Pulling out its contents, she tossed the condom packages on the bed. Oh, God, there had to be at least seven or eight of them scattered over the bedspread. Lifting her eyes, she saw Walter's face had gone from white to bright red. 

"Somebody was optimistic," she said tongue-in-cheek, biting her lip to keep from giggling.

"I, uh, I. . ." He was staring at the floor, still blushing furiously. "I-I didn't know w-which. . ." He paused to take a breath. "I didn't know w-which kind to get. I've n-never. . . I-I'm sorry. . ."

"It's all right, Walter." Feeling bad for teasing him, she slipped her arms around neck. "I'm on the pill. For other reasons than just birth control," she added, seeing his questioning glance. She swept her hand over the packets on the bed. "It's actually kind of sweet you even thought about it."

"Oh, um, okay." He closed his eyes for a moment as he frowned. "I-I. . .I should probably go."

"I don't want you to." She pressed herself against him, tangling her fingers through his curls

"I don't want to either." His breathing grew harsher. "But. . .but I need to go."

Paige lightly kissed his lips. "I know," she sighed as she released him. "It's going to be hours before I'll see you again."

"I know," he replied, absently rubbing the back of his neck. "So-so. . .w-what does this mean?"

"What does what mean?" 

"This." He gestured toward the bed then between the two of them. "Are we. . .are we together? Like a couple?"

"Do you want us to be a couple?" she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Yes," he declared before she'd even finished the question. Then he drew back, aiming his gaze at the floor. "I-If that's what y-you want." 

"I want us to be together too." Sensing he needed some reassurance, Paige threw her arms around him. "I love you, Walter," she whispered into his ear. 

"I love you too." 

"You really were amazing. I never would have guessed." She nipped his earlobe as she twirled one of his curls around her finger. 

"Y-You don't have to-to say that. . ."

"Walter," she interrupted. "It may have been awhile since I've. . .done it, but I still know when it's great. You were wonderful." As he parted his lips to reply, she pressed her mouth to his, slipping her tongue inside to tangle with his. A groan escaped him as his hands settled on the small of her back. 

Three more loud knocks rang out, followed once again by Happy's pissed off voice. "Dammit, O'Brien. Last warning. If I have to come back again, I'm coming in whether you two are decent or not."

They sprang apart like guilty schoolchildren "I-I'd b-better go." He glanced anxiously at the condoms scattered on the bed and made a move to pick them up.

"I'll hang on to those," she said, hurriedly gathering them. "Your pocket is probably not the best place to store them." 

Walter nodded as he stared down at the floor. "Okay." Grabbing his flannel shirt, he slipped it on and took a step toward the door.

"Wait." She wrapped her arms around him again, feeling the solidness of his body, breathing in his scent, wishing they didn't have to part. "I love you."

Something inside her melted as he grinned at her. "I love you too." She wasn't sure who moved first, but the resulting kiss left her breathless and weak in the knees. It wasn't until she heard the door knob rattling that she reluctantly let him go.

Walter took a deep breath, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder as he walked out of the room, knowing if he did, he'd never leave. He opened the door, surprising a very determined Happy, who had been jimmying a corner of the card lock apparatus.

"About time, dumbass," the mechanic said as he shut the door behind him. "And hey, thanks."

"For what?" he asked, wondering if she'd won another bet.

"For not making me see you and the waitress naked. That would have scarred me for life." She smirked as she stashed her tools inside her jacket. "Did Paige manage to clone Mr Sleazeball's phone last night before you two got freaky?"

"She did." He patted his jeans pocket which held the device. "I've already sent the info to Sly." Walter glanced behind him as they headed for the elevator. Paige might think she was done with Yuri, but that didn't mean the band leader was done with her. The worry the tall Russian would continue to sexually harass the liaison almost caused him to turn back around.

"So. . .it must have been nice to sleep in an actual bed," Happy said, interrupting his thoughts as she pushed the down arrow.

"It was nice." His mouth curled into a smile. "Although we didn't sleep all that . . Oof."

The mechanic drove her shoulder into his arm, knocking him off balance. "Ew, shut up." Glancing up at him, she added, "and wipe that goofy grin off your face, Groupie Boy, or everyone will know you got laid."

"Groupie Boy?" 

"You sleep with a band member, you're a groupie."

"But it was Paige. She's not really a band member."

"Yeah, whatever, Groupie Boy." She rolled her eyes as the elevator doors opened to reveal the band's manager.

"Oh, good," said Darby as he hustled out into the hallway. "Where the rest of you?" He was wearing another of his old fashioned suits in a plaid so garish it hurt Walter's eyes, along a sheen of perspiration on his broad forehead and a slightly frantic expression. 

Figuring he meant the other roadies, Walter pointed toward the suite where the party had been the night before. The older man nodded. "You two, get to venue. They want us out now, not later." He reached into his jacket, taking out his wallet. and holding out a twenty dollar bill. "Go now. Take taxi."

"Uh, sure," said Happy, palming the money. 

"Good, good." Darby bustled past them down the hall.

Walter glanced over at Happy, who shrugged as she stepped into the elevator. "Come on, Groupie Boy. I need a cup of coffee before I do anything else this morning."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I prefer ‘noob'." He jabbed the button for the ground floor as the doors closed.

_____

Meanwhile, earlier that morning back at the garage, Cabe walked down the stairs from the loft, wanting to snag a cup of coffee before having to drive Ralph to his day camp. Today was the first day and the youngster had been enthusiastically singing its praises the previous evening. He figured the kid would be chomping at the bit to head out.

Instead, he found the boy slumped in the middle chair of a row of three, a look of boredom on his young face. Sylvester was staring at his computer screen with an expression that was a mixture of disgust and horror. And the doc. . . 

"You destroyed our fort," said the agent as he stared at the remnants of the cardboard box Toby was fiddling with.

"Your fort," announced the shrink, "is now my puppet theater."

Cabe shook his head. "Don't you think Ralph's a little too old for puppets?"

Toby ignored the boy's "yes" with a wave of his hand. "No one's too old for puppets." He gestured to one of the empty seats. "Pull up a chair. The show's about to begin," he added giddily.

Reluctantly sitting next to the kid, Cabe sighed. He had a briefing at Homeland in less than an hour, so whatever torture the behaviorist was going to put them through hopefully wouldn't last long. Although, he grimaced, a minute would probably be too long.

"Welcome to the Toby Curtis show!" The crookedly hanging curtains attached to the front of the box were dramatically opened, causing them to fall to the floor. Toby was inside the box with just his head and shoulders visible in the jaggedly cut window. The doc ducked down then a sock puppet appeared. It was wearing a beard and a tiny hat.

"Starring Dr Toby Curtis!. Produced by Tobias M Curtis! Directed by T M Curtis! Written by Dr Tobias Curtis! Set Design by T Meriwether Curtis!" The puppet bobbed up and down, its mouth opening and closing as the credits were being called out.

"Today our first guest is none other than Team Scorpion's very own human calculator - Sylvester Dodd!"

Sly didn't even look away from his computer screen as he shook his head. "I want no part of your ego fest." Cabe glanced over at Ralph, who was rolling his eyes.

Apparently unconcerned by Sylvester's rejection, Toby kept talking. "Moving on to our next guest. He's big, he's bad, he thinks he's our dad. . . Let's give a big welcome for Homeland Security agent, Cabe Gallo."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Aw, come on," pleaded the shrink. "Afraid you'll be upstaged by a puppet?"

"No, I'm terrified of being trapped in an appliance box with a lunatic," growled the agent.

"Okay then, moving along to today's mystery guest. He's got a big brain and an even bigger ego. His hobbies include being efficient, telling people his IQ is higher than Einstein's, and suffering from unrequited love for a certain liaison. I'm sure you've all guessed by now. . . That's right. . . It's Walter ‘Mr 197' O'Brien! Yaaaaayyy!"

Another sock puppet with dark curly hair and a frown popped up into view. "Hello Dr Curtis, thank you for inviting me to your wonderful show."

Ralph tapped Cabe on the arm before leaning over and whispering, "I think Toby's losing it."

"I think you're right," the agent agreed. 

"I think the sooner Happy, Walter, and my mom wrap up this case, the better." The youngster shook his head as Toby obliviously nattered on.

"Your mom's going to be in LA later today. Maybe after you're done with your camp thing, we can arrange for you to see her?" suggested Cabe.

"Walter, too?" Ralph grinned up at him.

"Sure."

"Maybe you could get Happy to visit Toby, too. I think her being gone is the reason he's been acting so nutty." The boy swirled his fingers around his ears.

"I'll see what I can do, kiddo." Cabe looked at his watch, then got to his feet. "We need to head out if you're ready."

"Okay." Ralph hopped out of his chair and ran over to get his backpack.

"Oh, you're so much smarter than me, Dr Curtis," the Walter puppet was saying when the door slammed shut behind Cabe and Ralph. Toby's head poked out from behind the box.

"Hey, where'd everybody go?" he asked.

"Cabe is dropping off Ralph at his day camp and then he's going on to Homeland," Sly replied briskly.

"Well, poop." The shrink made the puppets dance from side to side. "No one appreciates a good puppet show anymore."

"They would if there were a good puppet show to appreciate."

"I don't like mean Sly," declared Toby. "He's nothing but bad news."

"Then you won't like this either." Sylvester pointed at his screen.

"What?" The psychiatrist walked over to the other man's desk, still wearing a sock puppet on each hand.

"The phone Paige cloned last night is clean, too," said the human calculator. "No gun deals, just more porn."

"Well, double poop." Toby blew a raspberry.

"I'm going to go take another shower," said Sly with a shudder. "I never realized the music business was so filthy."

"Everything's filthy, Sylvester," said the shrink. "The whole world and everything in it is covered with filth. You of all people should know that."

"That's a pretty bleak attitude," said the younger man. With a shake of his head, he got up from his desk and headed up to the loft.

Toby plopped back down in his chair and stared at the puppets on his hands. "Well, Mr 197," he made the Toby puppet say, "pull your IQ out of your ass and solve this case so I can get my Happy back."

"I'll do my efficient best, Dr Curtis," he made the Walter puppet say. In a fit of disgust, the doc tore off the puppets and flung them down on his desk.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey, noob, watch out!" 

Walter turned around, holding the cord he'd just unplugged before dodging out of the way as Nazar pushed a handcart stacked with amps past him. The backstage area was a chaotic scene. The next group seeking to use the venue had shown up at eight o'clock that morning, and were not happy to find Zhalo's equipment still in place. He and the others were forced to do three hours of breaking down and loading up in an hour.

The other roadie stopped and leaned in conspiratorially. "Hey, you hear Yuri did the new chick?"

"Uh, no." Walter wasn't sure how to process this tidbit of gossip. He knew it wasn't true, but if everyone else thought it was, maybe Paige would be safe from more of the lead singer's crude advances.

"Yeah, she's, how you say it? Up grabs?"

"Up for grabs," he corrected. _Oh, shit_. His hypothesis had been debunked before it could even be tested.

"Yeah, that. Up for grabs now." Nazar nudged him with his elbow. "You gonna try, noob?"

Walter swallowed nervously as he closed his eyes. These men were pigs, and the women weren't much better. He could hardly tell Nazar he and Paige were already intimate. These assholes didn't stand a chance, although that probably wouldn't stop them from attempting to have sex with her.

"I, um. . .maybe?" he replied, hoping the other man would back off. "What about you?"

"I already have girl," said Nazar as he slapped Walter on the shoulder. "Good luck, noob," he laughed as he started to move away. "You going to need it."

"There's no such thing as luck," Walter muttered under his breath as he wound up the cord. He was placing it in the box with the other cords and cables when his cell rang. Pulling it from his back pocket, he hoped it was Paige, although he'd only left her about an hour earlier, he was missing her intensely. He glanced at the screen and frowned.

"Sylvester." 

"Hey, Walter, can you talk?"

He knew the younger genius knew he was capable of speech, but it took him a moment to realize the other man had information to impart. "Yes," he replied as he bent down to pick up another cable. "What's up, Sly?"

"The phone Paige cloned is clean," said the human calculator, before launching into a tirade about the amount of indecent material on both Akim's and Yuri's cells. "It's disgusting," he finished.

"They're disgusting people," Walter replied. Dammit. Paige had endured being molested by the lead singer for nothing. "This puts us back to square one." He sighed. "I'm beginning to think the ATF got it wrong. These people, none of them are altruistic enough to believe in a cause, let alone supply arms to one. All they care about are drugs and sex."

"Speaking of. . .sex." Sylvester lowered his voice to a whisper on the last word. "Happy seems to think you. . .and Paige. . .last night."

Walter closed his eyes. Damn Happy anyway. He had a good idea why the normally taciturn mechanic was blabbing to everyone about his sex life. . . to deflect from her own rash behavior. And if Sly knew, it was only a matter of time until the shrink knew, and then. . . "It's really none of your business," he replied.

"Okay," said Sylvester with a chuckle. "So it's true?"

"Please don't say anything to Toby. Ralph needs to hear we're together from his mother." 

"Uuhh, okay. So, yes?"

"Yes." Walter ran his hand through his hair. "Is there anything else _important_ we need to discuss? I need to get back to work. "

"Cabe got hired on as event security for your concert here in LA."

"He mentioned he used to work security for concerts." Walter replayed the conversation he'd had with the agent at the beginning of the case and grimaced. He was doing a poor job of keeping an eye on either woman. Happy was running wild and Paige. . . He didn't like to dwell on what could have happened to her.

"Hey, noob, quit fucking around and get back to work!"

Walter swiveled around to see Akim standing next to Happy with a scowl on his face, which changed to a smile as he turned to the mechanic, who was placing powder canisters into a crate. The head roadie leaned close to her, saying something that made Happy laugh and grin up at the other man. 

"Hey, Sly, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay?" Ending the call before the younger genius could reply, Walter then stuffed his cell back into his pocket. Unplugging another amp, he snuck a glance at Akim. Evidently it was okay for _him_ to stand around and flirt with Happy, he grumbled to himself, while everyone else busted their ass. And what was Happy up to anyway? Akim had been eliminated as a suspect, why was she still hanging around him. . .and _laughing_. Something she rarely did, and usually at someone's else expense. She'd certainly laughed at him more times than he cared to count. 

Peeking over at the couple, he hoped that was what she doing now. Because if she was falling for the head roadie. . . To use her own quote. . .'not good'.

_____

Sylvester stared at the phone in his hand before turning it off. Beside him, a giddy Toby was dancing with glee. "That wasn't fair," said the human calculator. "You should have let Walter know you were listening."

"And what? Spoil all the fun?" the shrink gasped out between guffaws. 

"You better not tell Ralph."

"Oh, I won't." Toby braced himself against the desk. "No, I'm going to save all my ribald comments for Mr O'Brien and Ms Dineen."

Sly shook his head. "You need help."

"Says you." The behaviorist stuck out his tongue. "Who's the Harvard trained psychiatrist here?" 

"That doesn't mean you aren't acting crazy." 

"You'd act crazy too if you hadn't heard from the woman you loved in three days other than some drunken photos of her making out with another woman while sitting on another man's lap," the doc spit out bitterly as he adjusted his hat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my apartment for clean clothes and a little privacy. Smell ya later."

With that he spun on his heel and strode out of the garage. Sylvester shook his head again before returning his attention to his computer screen.

_____

Half an hour later, Walter wandered behind the stage, checking to make sure everything belonging to the band had been accounted for. Spying a cord, he bent over to pick it up, pulling up short when it went taut when he tugged on it. Following it, he discovered it was trapped under a couple of crates he didn't recognize.

He dismissed the notion they belonged to the next group. Their roadies were impatiently waiting for him and the rest of Zhalo's crew to clear the venue before moving in any of their equipment. Which was logical, since it curtailed any mix-ups of what belonged to whom.

Deciding to investigate, Walter had barely touched the nearest container when he heard footsteps behind him. Spinning around, he saw Mikhail walking toward him, pushing a hand cart.

"Are those ours?" the other roadie asked. 

"I don't know," Walter replied. "I don't remember them being here last night."

Mikhail looked at him quizzically. "You would remember that?"

Walter opened his mouth to explain to the other man he had an eidetic memory and could remember everything he saw and heard, but snapped it shut when he recalled Happy's admonishment to keep his ‘genius mouth shut.' "Uh, yeah, I checked out everything before w-we left for the hotel." He ran his hand over his face. "I-I could be wr-wr-wrong. It was a pretty, uh, w-wild night." His mouth curled into a smile as he remembered exactly how 'wild' it had been.

The other roadie grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Da, it was. We better get these loaded." Mikhail shoved the hand truck under the closest crate and began to lift it.

"Nyet, nyet." Both Walter and Mikhail turned to see Darby bustling toward them. "No," the manager said. "Those not ours."

Mikhail shrugged as he pulled the cart back out. "Okay." He pulled the cart away. 

"Are you sure?" asked Walter, peering to see if there were any markings indicating ownership.

"Da," Darby nodded. "They stay here." He waved his hands. "Come with. We go now."

Walter glanced over at Mikhail, who hitched his shoulders again before following the manager across the stage. Yanking the cord out from under the mysterious crates, he eyed them one last time before going after the other two men.

_____

Happy was about to put her headphones over her ears when Walter climbed aboard their bus, sitting down in the seat opposite hers. "We need to talk" he said, frowning when she stuck her tongue out at him. Waiting until the driver started the engine, he then leaned toward her.

"Sly called," he announced in a low voice. "Yuri's phone is clean. He's not involved in any gun smuggling."

"So Paige had to. . .for nothing? That sucks," said the mechanic as she shifted in her seat.

"Yeah, I know." Walter ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Hey, so you told Sylvester about me and Paige?"

Happy had the decency to look guilty. "Sorry about that. It just came out."

"You know what Toby's going to say about it, don't you?"

"I said I'm sorry, what more do you want? The doc would have found out sooner or later."

"Like about you and Akim?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's flirting with you, and you haven't exactly been pushing him away," Walter said accusingly. "He's been cleared. You don't need to hang around him anymore."

"Listen, O'Brien, because I'm only going to tell you this once," she hissed. "There's nothing for Toby to find out about because there's nothing going on between me and Akim. He's my boss. I'm just being nice to him, okay?"

"I'm your boss and you're never that nice to me."

"Yeah," she chuckled, a wide grin splitting her face, "because you're stuck with me no matter what." Her face sobered as she lifted her headphones. "So if you're done with the inquisition, Torquemada, I'd like to chill for a couple of hours."

"Fine." Walter slumped back into his seat, glancing out the window at the passing buildings.

"Hey, noob. . .uh, Valter."

He turned around to see Mikhail standing in the aisle behind him. "You want to play cards with us?" the roadie invited as he tilted his head toward the back of the vehicle. 

A strange feeling swept through Walter at the other man's offer. He'd never made friends easily, had never been accepted a part of a group. At least not until he'd started Scorpion. People would make overtures, but he usually scared them away with his aberrant behaviors. To be asked to join the other roadies in one of their favorite pastimes when only a few days ago they all had been so contemptuous of him. . . 

He wasn't sure what to do. Shooting a glance over at Happy, she tipped her head encouragingly while mouthing, "Go for it."

"Okay." He got to his feet, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

"You, too, Happy," said Mikhail, smiling down at the mechanic. "Akim save seat for you."

She put her headphones on. "Thanks but no thanks," she replied. "I'm gonna take a nap."

The Russian shrugged. "Okay. Come on, Valter."

Walter watched as the other man made his way to the back of the bus and took a step in that direction. Happy grabbed his arm before he could take another. "Turn off your brain," she suggested in a whisper, "and don't count cards."

"I'm not an idiot," he said indignantly. Being around Paige had taught him most people weren't impressed by a know-it-all. And being around Toby had taught him people didn't like to be cheated.

"And pull the stick out of your ass and loosen up," Happy said, letting him go as she leaned back against the window. 

"Okay," he said, rolling his eyes. Like she was any more an expert on interpersonal relationships than he was. With a shake of his head, he walked down the narrow aisle to where Mikhail and two other roadies were waiting for him. One of the men was making a show out of shuffling a deck of cards.

_Oh, boy_. What kind of card games did Russians play anyway? Walter doubted they were into poker or blackjack, the games he'd utilized to gain his stake to start Scorpion. He guessed he would find out, feeling slightly apprehensive as he wondered what he'd gotten himself into.


	15. Chapter 15

Paige climbed into the back of the long white stretch limousine, searching for a place to sit for the short trip up the freeway to Los Angeles.

"Hey, baby, come sit by me," said the bass player (whose name she never could remember), who was sprawled across a large portion of one of the velvet covered benches.

"No, sit by me." On the opposite side of the vehicle, the drummer patted the cushion beside him.

"Uh, that's okay," she said uncertainly, more than a little concerned why the two men had suddenly become so friendly. She moved toward the back, intending to sit as far away from everyone as possible. But to her dismay, she spotted Zalina slouched in the corner of the back seat.

The blonde glanced up at her and bared her teeth, hissing, "Fuck off, whore." Paige involuntarily took a step back, bumping into Anya, who had just entered the limo. Zalina looked like hell, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her lips were swollen, and she was sporting what appeared to be a giant hickey on her neck.

"Sorry," Paige said to both women before plopping down on the closest bench. Anya sat down across from her and shrugged.

"It's okay." The dark haired singer leaned forward. "I'm not pissed at you anymore."

"You're not?" Paige didn't even try to hide her surprise. The woman had been nothing but a bitch to her since the day they'd met.

"Nah, I know now you didn't sleep with Happy," declared Anya. "She told me you're not into women."

"Oh." Paige made a mental note to thank the mechanic for her intervention. Although it made her wonder just how close the two women were. She didn't get a chance to dwell on it further when Yuri burst into the limo. 

"Let's get the party started!" He reached over and opened up a compartment which held bottles of beer and champagne, pulling out one of the latter for himself. Then he plopped down next to Paige and flung his arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, sweet cheeks," Yuri whispered loudly into Paige's ear, "Great fuck last night," he said, licking her cheek. "I was so sore, I had tough time getting out of bed this morning." He squeezed her tighter, winking at her before letting her go so he could open his champagne.

"U-Uh, o-okay," she managed to say, "um, you were, ah, great too." _Oh, thank God_. He believed they'd had sex last night. A mixture of disgust and relief swept over her as she scooted away from the lead singer as he popped the cork and began chugging from the bottle, seemingly losing interest in her.

A loud snort came from the back of the vehicle. Paige turned to see the blonde singer scrunch down lower in her seat, pulling up a scarf to hide her face. 

"What's up with her?" Paige asked Anya, who was looking bored as she fiddled with her fingernails.

"She's just being a bitch," the other woman replied, nodding in Zalina's direction. "She went to spy on you and Yuri and ended up sleeping with him. . .again." The brunette shook her head as she shrugged. "You'd think she'd learn."

Paige's mouth fell open. Oh, God. This wasn't good. Yuri must believe he slept with her when he actually slept with Zalina. Did this mean the other woman knew _she_ hadn't slept with the lead singer? Paige shuddered to think what the blonde would do with that information. 

"I, uh, thought she hated Yuri," she said, still reeling from the brunette's revelation.

"Her fiancé was killed a few years ago," stated Anya. "He was Chechnyan rebel. She's been. . .how you say. . .destructive. . ."

"Self-destructive," Paige supplied more calmly than she felt as she digested what the other woman was telling her.

"Yeah, that. Self-destructive ever since." Anya shrugged again. "I try to help, but. . ."

Could it be possible Zalina had connections with both Chechnyan and Samatovan rebels and they were using her to broker weapons deals? That the blonde singer might care about something else beside sex and makeup boggled Paige's brain. She needed to let Walter know what she'd discovered. 

Glancing out the window, she noticed they had made their way through the city and were entering the freeway. Yuri and the rest of the band members were each drinking from either a champagne or beer bottle. Anya had closed her eyes and appeared to be sleeping. Zalina was still curled into a ball, hiding her face.

Paige took out her phone, checking to make sure she had service. Biting her lip, she knew she couldn't send Walter a text just blurting out what she'd learned. She was going to have to chose her words carefully and hope his 197 IQ would help him figure it out.

_____

Walter tried not to frown as he stared at the cards he was holding. He'd caught on quickly to the rather complicated game the other roadies enjoyed playing and he knew his hand was a good one. He'd already won the last two rounds. Winning three in a row. . .probably not a good idea.

Deciding to take Happy's advice, he ‘turned off his brain', instead letting it drift to the previous evening he'd spent with Paige. It had been amazing, she had been amazing. And knowing it could be hours, or maybe even a whole day before he could be with her again, he grunted with displeasure as he deliberately misplayed a card.

His attention was further diverted as the loud whoosh of the bus's brakes brought the vehicle to an unexpected halt. Glancing out the window, he noticed all the cars and trucks around them were stopped too. They'd been creeping along in traffic for the past hour, and now it appeared they'd come to a complete halt. 

"Hey, Kev, why we stop?" shouted Akim.

"Accident up ahead," replied the driver. "The radio says it's a pretty bad one."

Most of the roadies groaned. "Shit." Akim stood up and walked to the front of the bus. "How long?"

The driver shrugged. Someone yelled from the back, "I need to piss." Others chimed in, stating they also need to use the bathroom, and several complained they were hungry.

" _Zatknis_ ," the head roadie barked. "Shut up. Use a water bottle, Dmitri." That drew laughter from the other men, who then made derogatory comments about the size of the man's penis. 

An hour later, the bus hadn't moved an inch as Walter and his companions continued on with their card game. Akim had gone to sit beside Happy, and although he tried, Walter wouldn't hear their conversation but every so often he heard them laughing and what sounded like giggling. Happy Quinn. . .giggling. It was obvious, even to him, Akim was interested in her as more than a friend despite her claims to the contrary. Sighing, he tossed a card onto the seat in front of Mikhail. 

"Da!" the other man shouted, picking up all the cards. "I win!"

The two other roadies groaned in their defeat as Mikhail continued to celebrate. "Hey, shut up," grumbled Nazar, his head appearing over the seat in front of them. "I'm trying to sleep, you assholes."

"Ignore him," said Mikhail with a wave of his hand. "He just pissed about Mila getting busted. He missing his woman." The roadie then made kissing sounds at the other man.

"Fuck you." Nazar flipped him off. "Her getting busted ruined all our plans." He disappeared behind the seat back as the others laughed at Mikhail's antics.

Mila. Walter had heard that name before, taking a couple of seconds to recall the conversation his first night on this very bus. She must be the backup singer Paige replaced. And he wondered what kind of plans were ‘ruined'? Plans to get married, or something else, like plans to rebel against the Russian government?

"Here, your turn to deal." Mikhail shoved the deck of cards into his hands at the same time his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Hoping the text wasn't important, Walter ignored it as he shuffled the deck.

_____

Three hours later, Walter and the other roadies stumbled into the venue. Akim turned to face them, holding up his hands to quiet them down. "Okay, we meet back here in one hour," he announced. "Eat, drink, piss, whatever. You not back in time, you fired."

Tired groans greeted the head roadie's threat. Which Walter suspected was an idle one, as he had yet to see the man fire anyone even though he said it several times a day. 

"Hey, shut up. If we get everything loaded and in place tonight, you can have tomorrow off."

Cheers erupted as Happy sidled up beside Walter. "You wanna go grab something to eat?"

"Sure." Checking his pocket for his wallet, he felt his cell instead, and remembered the text he'd received earlier. "Wait," he said, powering on his phone and checking his messages. His face broke into a smile as he saw Paige's name.

The mechanic snuck a peek and rolled her eyes. "Ew, I'll go hang with someone else if you're going to be sending mash notes to each other."

"What's a mash note?" 

"Seriously, Walt? Were you ever a teenager? They're like sexting but on paper."

"Oh." He didn't know what sexting was either, but figured it must have something to do with sex, hence the name. And seeing Happy's exasperated expression, he decided he better not ask any more questions. Walter opened the message, rapidly scanning its contents. A bit triumphantly, he held out the cell. "It's not that. Here, read it." 

"This doesn't make sense," Happy said, unconsciously agreeing with his assessment. "Why does she call Zalina her best friend? That crazy witch wants to scratch Paige's eyes out."

"It's code." Walter indicated the screen. "Listen, ‘my best friend Zalina whose rebellious Chechnyan boyfriend was killed and now she's possibly dealing with some very dangerous baggage on her own'. She thinks Zalina might be behind the weapons deals."

A curt laugh escaped Happy. "Yeah, no. She can barely walk and chew gum at the same time. She's the person least likely to be behind this."

"And the last person anyone would suspect," Walter declared. "We should at least check it out. And I overheard something of interest while playing cards." He told her about Nazar and Mila, speculating on what their ‘ruined' plans may be.

"You know, it always did seem odd she got busted along with the ATF agents. As we've found out, the roadies never fly. She could have just given her drugs to Nazar for safekeeping until they met up at the next stop."

"Maybe she didn't trust him?" 

"Maybe." Happy pushed open the glass door leading outside the venue and they stepped out into the hot Los Angeles sun. "Hey," she said, pointing to a brightly colored taco truck on the corner of the next block. "Buy me lunch, O'Brien."

"A street vendor?" Inwardly he shuddered. "Sly says they violate about twenty-five different health code regulations."

"Probably." Happy shrugged. "But I'm hungry, it's right there and. . ." She glanced at her watch. "We've got less than forty-minutes of our hour left. We don't have time for anything else." She took off toward the truck.

"Fine." With a resigned sigh, Walter followed her.

_____

"This violates at least twenty-five different health code regulations."

Toby rolled his eyes at Sylvester's complaint. "Then don't participate." He bent down to place a piece of duct tape on the floor.

Ralph looked up at the human calculator from where he was kneeling on the concrete, hold a measuring tape in place. "Come on, Sly, it'll be fun."

"That's what Toby said about the puppet show. . .and we know that turned out."

"Hey, is it my fault none of you appreciate my masterful puppetry skills?" The shrink straightened up, glaring at his companions.

"Yes." Sylvester and Ralph answered in unison.

"Screw you." Taking a couple steps, Toby placed another mark on the floor. "Keep that measuring tape steady, Ralphie boy."

"I am." The boy genius shook his head. "I don't think any of us can spit twenty feet, Doc."

"Never hurts to be prepared." He ripped off one last length of tape. "There, all done."

The garage door creaked open as Cabe walked inside. "Hey Cabe, just in time," said the psychiatrist. "I hope you've been saving up your saliva."

"For what?" the agent growled. He swept his gaze over the marked up floor. "What the hell is all this?"

"Spitting contest," said Ralph enthusiastically, scrambling up off the concrete. "We're competing for both distance and accuracy. Winner gets a frozen treat from FroYoMa's every day for week."

"Count me out." Cabe took off his blazer and laid it across the back of a chair. "I start my security gig tonight."

"So the band's in town?" asked Sly. 

"That's my understanding," the agent said as he pulled off his tie. "I work for the venue though. They're worried there might be protests."

"Protests? Against what?" Toby set the roll of duct tape on his desk. 

"There's a small community of Samatovans here in LA and it's possible they'll use Zhalo's appearance as a way to call attention to their country's independence movement." Cabe started to unbutton his shirt. "There's a good chance I'll be seeing Walter and Happy later. Anything you want me to pass along to them, let me know. But after I take a shower." 

Snatching up his already discarded items of clothing, he headed for the stairs. "Wait," Ralph called out. "What about my mom?"

The agent stopped on the first step. "The band is scheduled to do several interviews for radio and TV tomorrow. I couldn't find out if Paige is involved or not. Hopefully I can find out more tonight."

"Okay." Ralph's shoulders sagged with disappointment. 

"Hey, kiddo." Cabe made his way back over to the youngster and ruffled his hair. "If I have anything to say about it, I'll make sure you can see your mom. Okay?"

"Thanks, Cabe." The boy still looked kind of glum.

"I have a message for Happy, all right," grumbled Toby as the Homeland agent once again started upstairs.

Sylvester, judging Ralph's despondent mood and Toby's disgruntled one, decided to distract both of them. "Who's ready for the 1st annual Scorpion Spitting Contest? I'll go first!" he proclaimed.

Toeing up to the starting line, he let a loogie fly. "Great job, Sly." The shrink trotted up to him with the measuring tape. "Now do I measure this, by how far it went or where it landed on your sweater vest?"


	16. Chapter 16

"Hey, Akim! We finished now!" one of the roadies shouted as Walter wheeled the last speaker into place.

"Good job," said the head roadie, nodding with approval. "Okay, everybody, tomorrow is day off. Just show up sober at nine on Wednesday morning." Cheers and laughter greeted Akim's announcement as the others started leaving.

Walter flipped his right wrist to check his watch. 11:42 pm. Probably too late to contact Paige again. He'd sent a reply to her text while he and Happy had wolfed down a couple of tacos earlier in the day. But his phone had remained silent as he and the others unloaded and set up the band's equipment. 

Concern for Paige threatened to overwhelm him. What if Yuri had discovered what had, or rather, what hadn't happened? What if he demanded more sex with her? And how did Zalina fit into all this? What if she found out about him and Paige? What if. . .

"Hey, Valter." Mikhail's voice broke through his worrisome thoughts and he turned to see the other man standing behind him. 

"Uh, yeah?" 

"We," the roadie began, indicating himself and the two other men Walter had played cards with, "we wondered if you want to come with us. We're going to check out strip clubs."

Walter was sure the revulsion he felt showed clearly on his face, but surprisingly the others didn't seem to notice as they waited expectantly for his answer. "Uh," he said, frantically searching his brain for an excuse which wouldn't alienate his newfound friends. "Sorry, I can't," he stated as a reason popped into his head, "my-my brother lives here. . .in LA. He's expecting me."

"Da, no problem, he can come too," Mikhail said, giving Walter a friendly thump on the shoulder.

The idea of Sylvester at a strip club. . . Images of the younger genius wiping down the pole with anti-bacterial soap and lecturing the women about hygiene almost had him bursting with laughter. Tamping down his amusement, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I really can't. H-He's. . ."

"Hey, no problem," said Mikhail. "Maybe next time, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Walter watched as the men wandered out of the building. For some reason, he felt bad, like he was missing out on something. Maybe if their destination had been somewhere less sleazy, he might have joined them. He had no interest in seeing scantily clad women. . .except for Paige. With a grin, he recalled their night together, and how stunning she was and how her body. . . 

Abruptly switching from his prurient thoughts before they careened out of control, he glanced around the stage, wondering if Happy had already left. He'd last seen her about an hour earlier, deep in conversation with the other pyrotechnician. Sighing, he decided she must have gone and started to head for the exit himself when he heard a giggle coming from behind a stack of amplifiers. A giggle he never would have recognized a week ago but now was all too familiar. Surreptitiously as he could, he made his way over to the amps and peered around them. 

Happy had her back to him, and Akim's hands on her ass. The now easily recognizable stench of marijuana hung in the air around them. The head roadie was bent over her, and if Walter was a gambling man, he would have bet his life savings the other man wasn't kissing the mechanic's mouth but somewhere lower. _Oh, shit_.

Ducking his head back around the corner, he pressed his back to the equipment, shamelessly eavesdropping. For several uncomfortable minutes there was nothing but quiet moans and moist sucking noises emitting from the other side of the stack. Walter closed his eyes, a mistake as unwanted images floated through his brain.

"Come on, baby, I got room at hotel," said Akim, his words punctuated with kisses. "Just you and me. . .unless you want to invite Anya too. I'm okay with that."

"I. . .I can't." Walter was surprised by the frustration in Happy's tone. 

"Why not?" the roadie asked a bit angrily. "I thought you liked me?"

"I do," replied the mechanic. "Just not that way. I'm sor. . ."

The rest of her apology was suddenly muffled, only to be replaced by groans. Walter debated whether he should intervene, possibly risk facing Happy's wrath, or walk away, possibly leaving the mechanic in a situation she would later regret. Guilt would consume him if something happened to her he could have prevented.

His indecision became moot as Happy finally spoke. "Okay, I do like you that way. But. . ." She took a deep breath. "I already have a boyfriend."

About time she remembered that, Walter thought self-righteously. 

"A boyfriend?" Akim sounded pissed. "Ha, I'm supposed to believe that?"

"It's true," she said just as angrily. "He asked me to marry him."

"Did you say yes?" the other man asked. 

"No," the mechanic replied, and Walter noted the sadness in her voice. "I couldn't. I'm already married."

"Fuck." He could feel the exasperation in Akim's expletive. "Married? Then why are you fooling around with me. . .and Anya? What are you, a tease cock?"

"It's cock tease. And no." A tense silenced ensued, and Walter knew Happy was having trouble explaining herself. "It's complicated and. . ." she began.

"No shit," the head roadie cut in before adding with a mirthless chuckle, "Why your parents name you Happy? You're not happy. You're one fucked up bitch." 

The crack of a hard slap made Walter wince in apprehension, as the likelihood Akim was going to fire her on the spot was nearly 100%. Harsh breathing filled the air for several moments before the other man growled menacingly.

"You better watch yourself. Screw up again and you're fired," the head roadie snarled. Walter slid around to the front of the amplifiers when he heard footsteps, positioning himself just in time to see Akim stalk away.

Allowing the mechanic some time to compose herself (and to make it appear as if he hadn't been listening), Walter took a deep breath, and with as much nonchalance as he could muster, stepped around the corner. 

"Oh, hey, there you are." At least that's what he'd meant to say. All he got out was, "Oh, hey. . ." before his mouth fell open as Happy spun around, glaring at him with tear stained cheeks and still watery eyes.

"I suppose you were listening to all of that, you son of a bitch." There was ferocity in her tone he'd never heard before, and it frightened him more than a little.

"Uh, no. . . I mean, um I was just looking for y-you," he fibbed. "I was-was wondering if you wanted to come back to the garage with me."

"You suck at lying, O'Brien," she stated. "And no, I'm going to my apartment. By myself." Walking up to him until they were almost toe to toe, she stared threateningly at him. "If you ever tell Toby what you've just overheard. . ."

"I don't know w-what you're talking about." He took a step back and held up his hands.

"Liar." Her steel-toed boot met his shin. He doubled over and grabbed his injured leg, lifting it off the floor as pain radiated from his knee to his ankle.

"Ow! What the hell. . ." Walter straightened up, hopping on his good limb.

"Swear you won't tell anyone," she hissed. "Not even Paige."

"Okay. Wait. . .why can't I. . ." He swallowed the rest of his question as she aimed her foot at his uninjured shin. "Okay, okay, I swear."

"Good. See you Wednesday." Stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, she stomped off.

Walter watched her depart before shaking his head. He limped towards another exit so she couldn't accuse him of following her, coming to a halt as he approached a doorway when someone on its other side spoke.

"I need to see some ID, miss," a gravelly voice demanded. A voice Walter recognized immediately. Cabe must have started his security detail and was trying to keep some groupie from bothering the band.

"I have it right here, sir."

Walter's face broke into a huge grin. _Paige_. Right on the other side of the wall, sounding like she was attempting not to laugh. His breathing accelerated, as did his heart. His brain switched off its worrying mode and. . . And another part of his anatomy was practically jumping for joy. 

"I can vouch for her. . .sir," he announced as he stepped out where they could see him. His stomach did a little flip when she flashed a dazzling smile at him. 

"And who the hell are you?" Cabe asked, tipping his head toward another security guard across the hallway.

"Uh, Walter O'Brien. I'm a roadie." he reached for his wallet. "If you need to see my identification. . ."

The Homeland agent consulted the clipboard he was holding. "Sure." He waved at the other guard. "Hey, Charlie, I got this under control if you want to take a break."

"I do. Thanks." The other man pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket and headed for the nearest exit.

"Smooth," Paige commented as Walter stuffed his billfold back into his jeans. Oh, God, she was having trouble restraining herself from running into his arms and kissing him and touching him and. . .

"Yeah, well, he's been hinting about going out for a smoke for the last half hour," Cabe declared, interrupting her wayward thoughts. His eyes darted from her then over to Walter. "You two kids seem pretty happy to see each other."

She watched as Walter's face turned beet red, felt the warmth which flushed over her own. Deciding to change the subject, she said in a rush, "How's Ralph? I have tomorrow off. I'd go see him tonight but it's too late, he's already asleep."

The older man mumbled something which sounded like "you'd be surprised" before stating in a louder voice, "Kid's doing great. He really wants to see you." The agent then turned to Walter, "You and Happy off tomorrow too?" He peered over Walter's shoulder as the genius nodded. "Where is she anyway?"

Paige didn't think it was possible, but Walter's cheeks grew even redder. "Uh, she, ah, she w-went to her apart-apartment," he said before switching the topic himself as he glanced at her. "So. . .did you get my text?"

"What. . . Oh, yeah. Sorry I didn't answer it," she replied. "I, uh, I figured you were working and I shouldn't disturb you." There was no way she was telling him she'd spent most of her afternoon and evening avoiding advances from the other band members and stressing over whether Zalina had discovered she hadn't slept with Yuri. 

It hadn't help her anxiety the blonde singer kept making cryptic and crude comments during a vocal practice held in Yuri's hotel suite. Paige wasn't sure if they were directed toward her or Yuri. . .or maybe at both of them. The lead singer had written a new song and wanted to perform it at the upcoming concert so they'd spent several hours going over the lyrics. The song was hastily penned garbage, but clearly based on the sex he believed he'd had with her the previous evening. She wasn't looking forward to Walter hearing it, hoping most of its filthy innuendo would fly right over his head. 

"So where are we at in this investigation?" growled Cabe, jolting her from her thoughts once again. "I was hoping you guys would have this wrapped up by now. I had both ATF and Homeland chewing my butt today. Sure would be nice to go home and be able to relax by myself after something like that."

"Ralph's not giving you too much trouble, is he?" Paige asked uneasily. The boy genius could be a handful sometimes and Cabe did seem more tense than usual.

"It's not Ralph who's being the pain in the ass," grumbled the agent under his breath. A little louder he growled, "Two more weapons shipments have left the country, one from Phoenix and another one from San Diego just this afternoon. Right under our noses. So have you three been wasting your time playing grab ass or have you been tracking down some solid leads?"

"One of the other backup singers had a fiancé who was a Chechnyan rebel," Paige volunteered before explaining the rest of her suspicions.

"And one of the roadies is dating the other singer who got busted," offered Walter, filling the older man in on what he'd overheard and theorized.

"Did you clone their phones?"

Walter shook his head. "Not yet. Nazar keeps to himself most of the time. He'd wondered why I was suddenly befriending him."

"And Zalina would rather claw my eyes out than be within five feet of me." Paige glanced over at Walter. Her stomach churned as she realized what they were going to have to do, and saw he'd come to the same conclusion as a horrified expression came over his face. "Oh, God."

"What?" asked Cabe. 

"We're not going to be able to clone anything until Wednesday night," she replied hastily. "Everyone's scattered because of the day off and . . ."

"I don't care when it gets done, just so it gets done before another shipment of arms leaves the country," the Homeland agent cut in.

"You know, don't you?" Walter directed his question at her and she nodded. It hadn't been too hard to figure out since everyone believed she'd slept with Yuri, she was now ‘available' to the rest of the entourage. But she wasn't worried about herself. She'd handled Yuri on her own, and Nazar probably wouldn't even be interested since he already had a girlfriend.

"Know what?" Cabe stared unhappily at both of them. "Somebody want to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm going to have to pretend to seduce Nazar," Paige said, before adding in a terrified whisper, "and Walter's going to have to let Zalina seduce him."


	17. Chapter 17

_"I'm going to have to pretend to seduce Nazar," Paige said, before adding in a terrified whisper, "and Walter's going to have to let Zalina seduce him."_

Cabe glanced over at Walter. "Sure you can handle that, son?" he asked. "Remember the last time you were supposed to let a woman seduce you? You got pistol whipped then had to jump out of a burning airplane."

"I-I've learned a lot since then," Walter said, grimacing at the reminder of how badly he'd ‘handled' Sima or Fatima or whatever her name had been. "I-I can do this. We don't have another choice."

Across from him, Paige was biting her lip, an anxious expression clearly etched on her beautiful face. Closing the gap between them, he held out his hands which she took in hers. "I'll be okay," he reassured her. "The hardest part is going to be convincing Zalina I've changed my mind. She was, uh, rather upset with me the last time I turned her down."

"I don't even know which roadie is Nazar," Paige stated, giving his fingers a squeeze. "You'll have to point him out to me."

Walter grinned. "I can do that." He could see her worry begin to subside, replaced by a spark of desire in her hazel eyes. At least he hoped that was what it was, it had certainly been the case the previous evening.

A choking sound interrupted the sensual pull he was beginning to feel. "Just get done what you need to do," said the Homeland agent after they'd both turned to stare at him. "I gotta get back to work and I think you two have somewhere else you'd rather be." 

"We'll be at the garage tomorrow," Paige said, letting go of Walter's hands, a faint pink glow on her cheeks. "Good night, Cabe."

"Uh, yeah, guess we'll see you then," added Walter, his own face feeling warm. He started to walk away, as did Paige.

"Hey, Walter, hold up," said Cabe before addressing Paige after they both stopped in their tracks, "It'll just be a moment."

"Okay, I'll wait by the exit." With a wobbly smile, she continued on her way.

"I see you've put yourself back in the picture." It was more of a statement than a question, but Walter still answered with a nod, his skin growing hotter. "That's great, and I'm happy for you, son, but. . ." the older man paused before continuing. 

"This is serious, Walter. Finding out who's behind this needs to be your number one priority. If the Samatovans amass enough arms for their rebellion, it could make what happened in Baghdad look like a picnic. The more weapons that leave the country, the higher the death toll will be. I don't think you want more blood on your hands anymore than I do."

The agent really knew how to twist the knife. Walter hung his head, duly chastised. The progress of the case _had_ become secondary in light of what was going on between him and Paige. Not only that, he'd gotten caught up in the work required of him as a roadie, and he knew Happy had as well, probably even more so than he. Roadies worked hard, then they played hard, and only slept when they found the time. It was a tumultuous way of life.

"I don't," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He flicked his gaze upward to met his mentor's tired eyes. "No, you're right. We. . .I. . .I've been distracted. Not only by Paige," he admitted. "Well, mostly by her but. . . These people. . .they're starting to become more than just suspects."

"It's great your EQ has developed and you're making friends, " Cabe said, "but you need to set all that aside and focus." He opened his mouth to say more, but snapped it shut when the other security guard ambled back into the hallway.

"See you at the garage," Walter murmured before slipping away. Behind him, he heard the Homeland agent greet the other man as he spotted Paige lounging next to a row of glass doors. Her whole face lit up when she saw him, and the scolding he'd just received nearly flew from his mind.

"So what did Cabe want?" she asked as he opened the nearest door.

"For us to keep our heads in the game," he replied, deliberately not telling her the rest as they stepped outside. 

"Easier said than done." Paige sighed wearily. "This rock ‘n' roll lifestyle is crazy. The late nights, constantly on the move, the indiscriminate sex, the drugs. . . Makes me glad I never seriously pursued a professional singing career," she declared, "plus I wouldn't trade Ralph for anything in the world."

"Of course not," he agreed, coming to a halt. "You do have a beautiful voice, though. I love hearing you sing."

"Oh, you do?" She moved closer, close enough he was enveloped in her lavender scent. Her tongue darted out from between her lips as she delicately licked them and his knees buckled. "You okay?" she asked, no doubt picking up on his ragged breathing and pounding heart as well. 

"No, I'm suffering from basorexia," he replied, the corner of his mouth curling. 

"Baso. . .what?" Her confusion was evident. "What's that?

His grin grew even wider. "It's an overwhelming desire to kiss."

"Oh," she murmured, barely containing a smile, "it must be contagious, I think I have it, too."

Paige's fingers grazed the back of his neck before weaving their way into his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands settling in the small of her back. He closed his eyes as they both leaned forward, her breath on his lips sending a shiver down his spine. Their mouths touched tentatively, then all the pent up desire he'd been suppressing all day surged forward, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands cupped her bottom, pulling her body tightly to his.

Judging by her enthusiastic response, Paige must have been experiencing the same frustration. He stumbled backward until he bumped into a solid surface. She pressed herself against him, gliding her foot up the back of his calf, her damp heat grinding against his hardness. Instinctively, he began to thrust, rolling them so her back was pressed up to the wall.

The blare of a car horn penetrated the lust-induced fog surrounding his brain, and he realized they were making out on a public sidewalk. Paige let out a little cry as he lifted his lips from hers.

"Oh, God," she murmured, her face flushing a light pink as she became aware of their surroundings. "Um, I have a room at the hotel," she began, her breathing still harsh, "or we could go to my place."

"Your place," he replied, gasping for air himself. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and he was glad his shirt was untucked. "Unless you don't want. . ."

"Oh, I definitely want." Her mouth curled into a smile. "It would be nice to sleep in my own bed again."

Walter had a feeling though, as they walked hand in hand to fetch his gear, they wouldn't be doing a lot of sleeping.

_____

Paige woke with a start, feeling a bit disoriented until she realized she wasn't in a hotel room but at home. In her own bed. With a naked curly haired genius sleeping beside her.

He was lying on his side, facing her. A faint grey light filtered through the slits in her curtains and she could clearly see his long dark lashes, his stubble covered cheeks, and his mouth. . . Oh, Lord, the things he'd done with it only a few hours before. She let her mind drift to their earlier lovemaking, the touch of his hands, his lips. . . The soreness between her thighs morphed into a different kind of ache, and she shifted restlessly.

"Hey." His sleep roughened voice snapped her from her erotic musings, and she opened her eyes to gaze into his dark ones.

"Hey."

"What time is it?" 

She glanced over her shoulder at her alarm. "5:10."

"AM or PM?" He rubbed his hand over his face and into his hair, scratching the top of his head.

"AM. Sorry if I woke you. . ."

"No, it's okay," he replied. "I was. . . Uh. . . I, um. . ." 

He lowered his gaze, but not before she glimpsed the desire hidden under his uncertainty. Oh, God, he wanted to make love again, but he didn't know how ask her. At least he wasn't just poking her with it, hoping to get her attention. Biting her lip to keep from giggling, she placed her hand on his whiskery cheek, giving it a gentle caress.

"Yes."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Yes?"

She scooted toward him, feeling the heat radiating off of him in waves. And oh, yeah, he definitely had something ready to poke her with. "It's the answer to the question I think you want to ask."

"Oh." He seemed startled, no doubt surprised she'd figured out his dilemma. He may be a genius, but in some areas, she was miles ahead of him. Like about love, and sex, and. . . Oh, God. . . Panic seized her at the thought of Zalina getting her claws into a newly sexually aware Walter. It would be like letting a hungry wolf babysit a newborn lamb.

He didn't even have the confidence to initiate intimacy with her, how was he going to fend off the blonde Russian bitch? And what if he got curious? She was the only woman he'd been with, what if he wanted to know how it would be with someone else? He said he loved her. . . But then Drew had told her that, too, yet that hadn't stopped him from screwing other women.

Men were different than women when it came to sex, and Walter was different than other men when it came to. . .well, just about everything. He might view sex as one big science experiment or else. . . He truly loved her, and only her, in every sense of the word.

"What's wrong?" His question cut through her worrisome thoughts, and she realized she was nearly hyperventilating.

"Nothing," she lied, calming herself by gazing into his eyes, which were full of concern.

"If you've changed your mind," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment, "I, um, I can. . ." His words dwindled as she pressed herself against him.

"You can love me," she whispered into his ear before giving it a little nip. She would fret about him and Zalina later. Much later. Right now, she had more important things to take care of.

"I-I can. . .I can d-do that," he murmured, slipping his hands around her waist.

Paige rolled Walter onto his back then began sliding down his body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. Flicking one of his nipples with her tongue, she smiled with satisfaction as he groaned, bucking up off the bed. He wasn't the only one who could do mind-shattering things with his mouth.

_____

"Well, look who's here," Toby announced as Walter and Paige strolled into the garage a little after one in the afternoon later that day. The shrink was leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk, idly twirling a pen, almost like he'd been waiting all day for their arrival. "Miss Rock Star and her groupie."

"I'm hardly a rock star," said Paige as she plopped her bag onto her desk. "Back-up singer #3 is not the glamorous position you'd think it would be."

"Yes, but you didn't deny Walter was your groupie." The psychiatrist slid his feet to the floor and stood up, a grin threatening to split his face.

"I'm not a groupie," Walter grumbled, glancing at Paige when she made a choking sound, like she was trying not to laugh.

"You sleep with a band member, you're a groupie," Toby declared impudently.

"Wait. . ." Paige's face turned pink and she looked from man to man, clearly confused. "How did. . ."

"Dammit, Toby." The genius took a menacing step toward the other man. "That's exactly what Happy said. She told you?" 

"No, I haven't spoken with Ms Quinn since you guys left for Phoenix." The shrink scanned around the garage. "Where is she anyway? Didn't she come back with you?"

"No," Walter replied tersely, tightly gripping the handle of his duffel.

"Then where is she?" The other man moved a step closer.

Walter's eyes darted everywhere but Toby's face. "I-I have no. . .no idea."

"You suck at lying, O'Brien." The psychiatrist swung around to face Paige. "Do you know where she's at?"

"No." The liaison placed her hands on her hips. "I haven't seen her for about two days, not since the morning she. . .uh. . ." Caught them in bed together, Walter silently finished her sentence. 

"Not since the morning she. . .what?"

"I can't remember," Paige said in a rush.

"Uh huh. I hope you two are better at playing hide the salami than you are at lying. Because you both suck at that."

Paige's blush grew even darker and the heat he was experiencing intensified. 

"Dammit, Toby, she's a big girl, and she wants to be alone," Walter grudgingly revealed. "She doesn't need you hounding her day and night. She has enough. . ." He was going to say the mechanic had enough problems at the moment, which she did. But the main cause of her problems didn't need to know that.

"She has enough what?" Toby glared at both of them, then spun around and kicked his desk. "Oh, my hallux," he groaned as he hopped back around on his good foot. "Fine, I don't need you two to tell me where she is. I'm a genius, I'll figure it out on my own."

He limped back over to his desk, grabbed his cell, and started jabbing in numbers. Walter looked over at Paige and shrugged.

"Where's Sly?" she asked the shrink, who was muttering "voice mail, fucking voice mail" under his breath. He tossed his phone back onto his desktop.

"Ha, maybe I won't tell you unless you tell me where Happy is." 

"I'm 100% positive Sylvester is at the Warlock's Chest with his role playing pals like he is every Tuesday afternoon we don't have a case," declared Walter smugly. 

"Shit." Toby shook a finger at Walter. "Okay, she doesn't want to talk to me and she wants to be left alone. Where would she go that she'd think I wouldn't find her?" Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the top of his desk, mumbling ‘nope' over and over again as he was apparently thinking of, then dismissing possibilities. 

"Aha! It's so obvious," he cried out after a few minutes The psychiatrist smacked himself on the forehead, nearly knocking off his hat, which he quickly adjusted. "Smell you later, losers."

Walter watched as Toby practically ran out of the garage before glancing over at Paige.

"Not good," she said at the same time he did.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may have bit off more than I can chew here, trying to write a big emotional Quintis scene. Hopefully it doesn't suck. And a gentle reminder, dear readers, the circumstances of Happy's marriage in this fic are obviously not canon. I started writing this before Season 3 began so I had a totally different scenario plotted out and decided not to change it.

With more trepidation than he expected to feel, Toby took one last step, bringing him to the threshold of Happy's front door. Wiping his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans, he then raised his hand, intending to knock. Questions began to swirl in his mind, some of which he didn't want to know the answers.

What if she hadn't come back here, to her apartment, the only place he realized she would try to hide from him? What if Walter was an idiot and he'd misread her (an entirely feasible scenario, Mr 197 might be IQ smart, but people smart? Yeah, no.) and she didn't want to be alone? What if she was engaged in sexual congress with that roadie, whatever the fuck his name was, right at this very moment?

Lying to himself the anger and jealous raging through him were totally rational, he let his fist fall against the unyielding wooden surface then pounded as hard as he could. After what seemed like a lifetime, the door opened a crack.

"Go away." He caught a glimpse of Happy's perturbed countenance as she tried to shut the door. Jamming his foot in between the door and its frame, he grimaced in pain as his injured big toe was squeezed unmercifully.

"Let me in."

"No."

"Then come out."

She stared at him for what felt like another eternity before saying, "Okay." Letting go of the knob, she added, "Let me get my jacket."

As it was nearly 90 degrees, he knew her need for an outer layer of protection was nothing but a defense mechanism. He just wondered if it was from her insecurities. . .or from him. 

Toby said nothing when Happy returned wearing her black leather motorcycle jacket, zipped up all the way to her neck. After locking up, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and stared expectantly at him.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Getting her to a neutral location might help her loosen up. At least he hoped so.

"Sure."

Letting her take the lead, he paced himself to stay by her side. He could see her eyes darting warily toward him from time to time, probably expecting him to start throwing a barrage of questions at her. Not that he didn't have a million of them, but he kept his curiosity in check. No, if she wanted to talk, he could wait until she was ready. 

They walked for several miles before Happy stopped in the middle of a small bridge which spanned a dry arroyo. Bracing herself against the concrete railing, she leaned forward, keeping her gaze averted.

"I have some things I need to tell you," she began, her words barely above a whisper, "and I need you to let me tell you without trying to analyze what I say every five seconds with your psychobabble bullshit. Okay?" 

Toby rested his back against the bridge, semi-facing her, noting she still wouldn't look him in the eye. "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough." Pulling her hands from her pockets, she set them on the weathered concrete. He watched as she gripped the edge so hard, her knuckles turned white. "I mean it. One word before I'm finished and I'm outta of here."

"Okay. Will I get a chance to speak at all or. . .?"

"Maybe." Sneaking a peek at him, she quickly refocused on the weedy riverbed. "About a week before my 18th birthday, I get a visit from my caseworker who told me I had to leave the group home where I'd been living. I have no money of my own, no job, month left of high school, and I'm booted to the street. Happy Birthday to me." 

Righteous indignation rose up inside him as she described her desperate search for a job, her reticent manner ruling her out for most retail positions. And the sexism she'd contended with while applying for mechanic jobs. . .it really burned his ass.

Happy took a deep breath, pausing for several moments before speaking again. "So there was this auto body shop a few blocks from the group home. I'd hung out there a few times, and they'd let me tinker. The owner. . . He was an older guy, probably late 30's, early 40's, not too bad-looking. He'd flirt with me, say things like he'd marry me when I was old enough, crap like that. So, I went to go see him. . ."

Shit, he had a good idea where her story was heading, and it made him sick. He listened to her as she explained how she'd cut a deal with her future husband. A job in exchange for letting him marry her and. . . Ugh, the thought of her sleeping with "Bob the perverted bastard" twisted his gut even more.

She must have noticed his distress because she added, "It wasn't like he was the first or anything." A statement which did not make him feel any less like punching the lecher in the face.

"It was okay for a few months," she said, interrupting his violent impulses. "Then he started hinting he wanted a kid, someone to take over his business when he retired. Like I wouldn't able to handle it." She rolled her eyes with disgust, lost for a moment in her remembrances. "I'd told him from the start I didn't want kids. It was just fuel on the fire though. We'd already been fighting about other shit."

"Then, uh, then one night. . . Things got a little outta control and well, I split." She snuck another peek at him and it took everything in him not to show his emotions on his face. As welcoming as it was she was finally opening up, there was a shit ton she was still withholding. And with his fertile imagination, he could fill in the blanks of what she was omitting. . .and it wasn't a pretty picture.

"I had some money stashed, enough to tide me over until I found another job." Another half-truth, if her compressed lips were anything to go by. "As far as I know, he's never filed for divorce and he's not dead. But . . .but at the time, I figured why poke a hornet's nest, right? He sold his business about four years ago. Guess I should have kept track of him, just in case. . ." She shrugged. 

"So now you know that sad tale of woe," she said before inhaling then exhaling nervously. "As for the rest. . . I. . .well, I kinda lost my head. I'd been stressed out. . ." He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing he'd been the major cause of her stress, but she shot him a dirty look, and he snapped it close again.

"And there was booze and pot, and I thought, what the heck, when in Rome. . ." She chuckled for a moment, glancing over at him, obviously noting his puzzled expression. "I was just thinking of Walter. He acted like an outraged PTA mother for the first couple of days. They thought he was a narc." Shaking her head, she swallowed her mirth. 

"About the other. . ." Her voice faltered, guilt markers etching themselves into her beautiful face. "It was just kissing. . .and maybe some groping. Anya and I. . .we decided we didn't suit, I guess I wasn't lesbian enough for her. And. . .Akim. . ." 

He grunted with displeasure at the other man's name. Darting another warning stare in his direction, she continued. "At first it was just pretending to suck up to the boss, hoping he'd spill more info. But then. . . I don't know, I just got caught up, and the alcohol and marijuana were clouding my better judgement. Last night, he and I were smoking a joint and things got kinda crazy. . ." Kicking at the bottom of the railing, she related her encounter with the son-of-a-bitch roadie behind a stack of amplifiers. 

Happy turned to finally face him when she'd finished, cramming her hands back into her pockets. "I'm sorry, Doc," she said in a sad yet with a defiant undertone voice as she cast her eyes downward.

"Can I speak now?" he asked after taking a few moments to process everything she'd told him.

"If you must," she conceded grudgingly.

"I love you." He knew better than to say he'd forgiven her, he didn't want to have to drink his meals through a straw or sing soprano in a boys' choir. 

Her head snapped up. "I just told you I basically prostituted myself for a roof over my head and that I was seriously contemplating banging another guy and that's all you have to say?"

"Happy, you did what you had to do to survive," he began. "I know what it's like to be down to my last dime and I'm not proud of some of the things I've done to keep a roof over my head. I don't particularly care for the idea of you marrying someone just so you didn't have to sleep on the streets, but I can understand the desperation that drove you to do it."

"Yeah, well. . ." She closed her eyes, turning away from him again.

"As for the other. . ." He sighed wearily. "I can't say I'm thrilled about that either, but I understand why it happened. Going undercover has its risks. Especially going undercover into an atmosphere as drug-fueled and sexually charged as traveling with a rock and roll band. Trained police officers sometimes get so immersed, they forget which side they're on. The people they're spying on become their friends. Lines get blurry.

"You guys went in without any preparation. All three of you have been effected by the life you've been leading. Walter and Paige just weren't as stressed out as you were going in, which made you more susceptible."

"I said no psychobabble." Lifting her eyes, she glared at him. But there was no malice in it. Underneath, he saw her gratitude for not condemning her for her reckless actions.

"Sorry." He adjusted his hat. "And I do love you." 

"I don't know whether to kiss you or push you off this bridge." 

"Can I pick which one?" He smiled impishly at her.

"Shut up, Doc." She grabbed his shirt, pulling him to her, kissing him firmly on the mouth. 

When they finally came up for air, Happy took several deep breaths. "You wanna go back to my place? she asked in a husky whisper.

He nodded his acquiesce, because for one of the few times in his life, he was at a loss for words.

_____

"Mom!"

Walter, who had spent the last hour sneaking peeks at Paige as she sat across from him at her desk, watched as she jumped out of her chair. Just in time for Ralph to barrel into her, wrapping his arms around her waist. A grinning Sylvester followed in the boy's wake.

Waiting until the liaison finished fussing over her son, Walter got to his feet and stepped toward them. "Hey, buddy," he said, feeling a bit awkward. Which was understandable, considering what he'd been doing with the youngster's mother only a few hours earlier. "Good to see you."

"Hey, Walter." The boy extended his fist and Walter bumped his against it. "You wanna see what we did at camp today?" He slung his backpack off his shoulders and started to unzip it.

"Sure." Glancing up at Paige, he wasn't surprised to see her smiling at them, but the tears in her eyes were unexpected. Hoping he hadn't done anything wrong, he diverted most of his attention back to the miniature rocket Ralph was showing him.

‘Thanks for picking him up, Sly," he heard her say, glimpsing at her as she furtively dabbed at her cheeks. 

"No problem," replied the human calculator. "I needed to get away from the garage for awhile."

"Well, I hope you can stay for dinner." Paige waved her hand toward the kitchen. "I'm making spaghetti and meatballs."

The door creaked open and Cabe strode inside. "Sounds good. Sign me up."

Walter looked up at her and frowned. "Paige, you don't have to cook for all of us."

"I know. I just want to do something normal. . .useful." She sighed. "I feel like. . . Well, I need to feel like me again. The real me." Pursing her lips together, she tipped her head. "Does that make any sense?"

He nodded. "It does." He, too, wanted to go back to being his normal self (although normal was the wrong adjective to use in his situation). Handing the rocket back to Ralph, he moved toward her. "Is there anything I can do to help? W-With dinner preparation, I mean." 

"Yeah, you and Ralph can make the garlic bread." She smiled at him and his heart nearly skipped a beat.

It wasn't until the boy genius was showing him how to use a garlic press, her earlier words resounded in his head, when she'd said she needed to feel like herself again. Did that mean she hadn't been herself when they'd. . .when they'd been. . .been intimate?

The youngster's instructions were drowned out by the anxiety suddenly flooding his brain. Finding it hard to draw air, he grasped the counter to steady himself. Had being with him been just an aberration, a lapse in judgement brought on by the craziness of traveling with the band? Would it be over between them once the case was resolved?

"Are you okay, Walter?" Ralph's worried voice shook him out of his troubled musing. 

"I'm fine," he fibbed, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He didn't like lying, and he especially didn't like lying to the boy standing beside him. But he could hardly tell the young genius he was afraid Paige would stop having sex with him after their mission was completed. 

"Did you know a garlic press is a class 2 lever?" he asked, changing the subject. "Its fulcrum is on the end and the force it produces is in the middle."

Ralph nodded. "But too much force just smashes the garlic. The clove has to be pressed gently or it's ruined." He stuck a piece of garlic into the press. "It's all in the technique. watch.

Walter stared as the youngster applied just enough pressure so the clove was perfectly squeezed through the grid. Taking a deep breath, he realized he too had to find the perfect technique in his relationship with Paige, or else he could end up smashing and ruining everything.

_____

"You guys almost done?"

Walter nearly dropped the wet, slippery plate Sylvester had just handed to him to dry, catching it before it slid to the floor. "Uh, yeah, almost," he stated, turning to see her leaning against a nearby pillar. The younger genius had volunteered to wash the dishes, guilt tripping Walter into helping him. Cabe had gracelessly bowed out, citing his security gig as an excuse. 

"Ralph? Do you want to stay here or go home?" she called out, glancing over her shoulder.

"Home. It would be nice to sleep in my own bed again."

"Okay." She wandered over to her desk. "Hey, Sly, we can give you a ride home if you want to go back to your place."

"Thanks, Paige, that would be great." The human calculator gave a saucepan one last scrub before thrusting it at Walter. He slowly rubbed the dishtowel over it, his breathing accelerating as he wondered if he was included in any of her plans. And if so, should he decline any invitations so she and Ralph could spend time together?

He'd seen Paige more than Ralph had in the past week (a lot more of her as a matter of fact). There were things he could catch up on here at the garage; projects, paperwork, sleep. . . He needed to give her some space, even though spending every waking (and non-waking) second with her still wouldn't be enough.

"Hey, Walter, you're coming with us, too. Right?" 

He snapped out of his thoughts to see Ralph staring expectantly at him. Glancing over at Paige, he tried to take his cue from her on how to reply, but she just smiled enigmatically at him. 

"Uh, you should have some time alone with your mom. I shouldn't intrude."

The boy looked from him to his mother. "But I've missed both of you. It's all right if he comes with us, isn't it, Mom?"

Paige nodded as her grin grew wider. Ruffling her son's hair, she said, "Walter, you're more than welcome to stay with us. In fact, I insist."

"Okay. Just let me get my stuff." Thankfully, he had already efficiently repacked his duffel with fresh clothing earlier in the day. The fact he couldn't say no to either Ralph or Paige would probably prove problematic someday. But he wasn't going to worry about it at the moment. Or maybe ever.


	19. Chapter 19

Paige walked into the living room just as Ralph's animated race car crossed the finish line a split second before Walter's. "Good job, buddy," he said, raising his hand so the youngster could slap it.

"All right, Ralph, time for bed." She sat next to Walter, close enough their thighs touched, the scent of lavender inappropriately stirring his senses. 

"Come on, Mom. One more hour? Please?" Walter wasn't sure how she could be so unaffected by her son's plea coupled with his puppy dog eyes. He knew he would have folded like a card table. She clearly had more experience resisting the boy genius.

"No way, mister. You have camp in the morning." Crossing her arms over her chest, she added, "And I know you've been staying up waaaay past your bedtime this week." When Ralph opened his mouth to protest, she cut in before he could say a word. "Walter has to get up early in the morning too."

"Oh, all right." The youngster's shoulders sagged as he switched off the video game. "Good night, Walter," he grumbled unhappily. 

"Good night, Ralph." It was hard to keep from chuckling as the youngster dramatically trudged toward his room, Paige trailing him down the hall.

Setting his controller on the coffee table, Walter leaned back against the couch. He rubbed his hand over his face as he speculated on where he was supposed to sleep. He'd been unsure how to broach the subject earlier, especially in front of Ralph. 

He had too much respect for Paige, and her son, to assume he'd be sharing her bed. He didn't know if it was the newness of it all, or how amazing it was, or how much he was in love with her. . . But to spend the night beside her, to be so close, so intimate, and not. . . 

It would be impossible. He'd never be able to relax. Sleep would be out of the question. And he certainly didn't want to disturb her rest. Even camping out on her sofa seemed too tantalizing. 

Just as he decided his best option was to return to the garage, Paige stepped back in to the living room. Walter got to his feet, his eyes darting between hers and the floor. "I, uh, I should pr-probably. . ."

"We need to go over how you're going to get close to Zalina," Paige interrupted before he could finish, "without getting _too_ close to her, if you know what I mean?"

Relief he wouldn't have to leave quite yet mingled with pride over the fact he _did_ know what she meant. He had no desire to be near the blonde back up singer any longer than it took to clone her phone. "O-Okay," he said as he sat back down on the sofa.

They spent the next two hours coming up with a script Walter would follow to gain his objective. He committed it to memory despite his brain being scrambled by his desire for the woman seated next to him.

"You shouldn't have to spend more than five minutes alone with her if you stick to the plan," Paige commented as they finished up a little after midnight. "And remember, only touch her if you have to."

He nodded, suppressing a shudder at the thought of touching the other woman. "This re-reminds me of wh-when you tried to teach me to flirt," he said.

She laughed out loud, then clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said, lowering her voice. "You had to be the least flirtatious person I've ever met." Paige ducked her face away for a moment before gazing at him with a shy smile. "And I have to confess. . .I was deliberately trying to get a reaction from you."

"Y-Y-You succeeded." Closing his eyes, Walter recalled every excruciating detail; how her hands had felt caressing his face, the heat of her body so close to his. . . "I w-wanted you so much, but I. . .I. . ." He took a deep breath. "If Sylvester hadn't been there, I might have. . .y-you know. . ." His face burned as erotic images of them on his bed swirled through his head.

"Oh." Paige's mouth dropped open. "I. . .I had no idea," she said after a few moments, her own cheeks flushed a bright pink. "I probably would have let you."

It was his turn to be shocked. He tried to speak, but his brain seemed to have forgotten how to form words.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Walter," she said, placing her hand on his leg. He instantly tensed, both from her touch and her ominous statement. "But I'm glad it didn't happen then. It would have been too soon," she explained. "I'm glad we became friends before we became lovers."

He didn't think it was possible but he grew even hotter. He had to leave. There was no way he could stay anywhere near her without having her. "I. . .I, uh. . . Maybe I should go. . .? Go b-back to the garage. . .?" he said, rising to his feet again.

"Oh, okay, if that's what you want." Paige bit her lip and he saw the disappointment in her eyes. "It's late though," she pointed out as she stood. "And you'd have to take my car. We rode over here together, remember?"

Damn, he'd forgotten about that. He supposed he could call for a ride, but something told him she'd shoot down that idea as well. With a sigh of resignation, he asked, "Okay, I'll stay. Do you have a blanket and pillow I can borrow?"

"What for?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"So I can sleep on the couch," he explained. Seeing she was even more bewildered, he continued, "We. . . W-We can't. . . Obviously, I can't sl-sleep w-with you. What w-would Ralph think?"

"He would think you love me." He wondered what was so funny as she tried and failed to hide a smile.

"I do love you." Walter agitatedly ran his hand over his face. "I just don't think. . . I w-wouldn't. . ."

"We don't have to do anything," she declared, putting her fingers on his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the sensations stirred by her touch. 

"But that's. . .that's the problem. If-If I. . .we. . .share a b-b-bed, I don't think I can't. . ." He shook his head. "Ralph would be right across the hall," he pointed out.

"Walter," she said, and he could hear the strained patience in her voice. "People make love all the time with their kids in the same building. Sometimes even when they're right across the hall."

"But Ralph's not mine."

"He might as well be," she countered. "Walter, it will be all right. We just need to be quieter than usual." Pressing herself against him, she slid her hands up the back of his neck and into his hair. She whispered his name into his ear and he was lost.

"Okay," he conceded with a groan.

Giving him a triumphant look, Paige took his hand and led him toward her bedroom.

_____

"Cutting it a bit close," Walter said, glancing at his watch as Happy sauntered by him the next morning. It was nine on the dot. He didn't know if Akim had cooled down during their time off, but she still needed to be careful and not get kicked off the case.

"I suppose you got here half an hour ago, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," she countered with a grin.

"No." He'd only been fifteen minutes early but she didn't need to know that. Instead he changed the subject. "You seem a lot more. . .uh, relaxed than the last time I saw you."

"I could say the same for you." Her smile grew wider.

"So did you and Toby, um. . ."

"None of your business. . .Groupie Boy," the mechanic drawled teasingly as she walked toward the other pyrotechnician. Turning to look over her shoulder, she stuck her tongue out at him.

Rolling his eyes at her juvenile behavior, Walter returned his attention to hooking up a stack of amplifiers.

Around noon, members of the band began straggling into the venue, most of them looking the worst for wear. Yuri especially appeared strung out, like he hadn't slept for several days. Walter stood off to the side while the musicians decided the placement of their microphones, but even then he could smell the alcohol and marijuana fumes, along with the unpleasant mixture of heavy perfume and body odor, rolling off the lead singer in waves.

Yuri was even more disgusting up close, burping and farting and scratching places better done in private. Walter thought he was going to be ill as he adjusted the other man's microphone. Tamping down his nausea, a frisson of awareness swept over him, and he knew without a doubt Paige had arrived. Stepping back from the Russian, he saw her stash her bag before flashing him a brief smile. He instantly felt a jolt of desire flow though him.

"Hey, noob, what the fuck is your problem?" Yuri snapped peevishly before belching. "Quit fucking with my mic already. It's not my dick, you know."

Walter's face burned as the other members of the band laughed crudely. "S-S-Sorry." He gave the microphone one last tweak then moved onto to the bass player's. Quickly finishing the rest of the set up, he stepped off stage to listen as the band rehearsed.

It took him several minutes to realize a new song had been added to the play list. Which didn't surprise him, considering how Zhalo's music all sounded the same - terrible. He'd been focusing all his attention on Paige's voice but after the chorus began repeating for a third time, the lyrics finally penetrated his brain.

_"You didn't want to spend the night with me,  
But my sexy loving overpowered you,   
And now you won't let me be.  
Now there's nothing that you wouldn't do. . .  
For more fun, for more fun,   
For more fun. . .   
With my love gun."_

Horrified, Walter glanced over at Paige, taking in her pale grim countenance before she bit her lip and looked away. If he was hearing it correctly, the song was about someone who was coerced into having sex, but then starts stalking her rapist for more sex. Oh shit, was the son of a bitch singing about the night he thought he slept with Paige?

His hands curled into fists, itching to pummel the tall Russian into oblivion. His eyes met Paige's for a fleeting second, long enough for her to shake her head in warning, no doubt because his violent intentions were plainly written all over his face.

Inhaling deeply, he spun away, unable to listen anymore. He wasn't even sure why it bothered him so much, he knew where Paige had spent the last three nights - with him, not Yuri. It had to be the idea of anyone else touching her the way she'd let him. . . A fury of emotions had been unleashed inside him, ones he didn't know how to deal with. . .ones he was going to have to keep under control if there was going to be any chance of Team Scorpion successfully completing their mission.

He spent the next half hour brooding in a corner backstage, methodically taking apart then putting back together a backup speaker. It took several minutes for him to realize Zhalo had stopped playing and were heading toward the exits, evidently taking another smoke break. He sought out Paige, who, in a prearranged signal, tipped her head toward Zalina.

With a knot in his stomach the size of a whale, Walter approached the backup singer. She was digging through her purse, muttering curses under her breath.

"Uh, hey, can w-we talk?" he asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

She looked him up and down before scoffing, "What do you want, loser?" Tossing her head, she resumed pawing through her bag.

"I-I just wanted to say I, um, I'm sorry. . .sorry about, about what I said the other day." He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, parroting the words he and Paige had come up with the previous evening.

"Why should I care?" 

Again, following the script the liaison had helped him prepare, he said, "You, er, you were right. She's. . ." He jerked his head in Paige's direction as she was fiddling around with her belongings several feet away. "She's not interested in me"

"Ha, I told you," Zalina laughed humorlessly. "Of course that slut's not interested in you." She narrowed her gaze at him. "You hear new song?" 

"Yeah, uh," he began, hoping she didn't want him to critique it. 

"Da, Yuri wrote it after he fucked her." She snorted with derision. "He's been bragging she can't get enough of his big cock."

An urge to beat the shit out of the lead singer surged through him again. Struggling to regain his composure, he retreated to the safety of his memorized speech. "Well, what I said to you. . . I, uh, I knew she was listening, and, ah, I didn't want her to know I was. . .I was. . .I was interested in you, too." His stomach heaved at the enormity of his lie, and he gulped anxiously.

"Ha, I am supposed to believe that?" she sneered, dropping her purse as she slinked toward him. "Prove it."

"Pr-Prove it?" Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and the taste of bile rose in his throat. _Oh, boy_ , he thought worriedly, _this wasn't part of the plan_. 

Zalina moved closer, placing her hands on his sweat soaked t-shirt, then gliding her fingers up and down his chest, lingering over his nipples. He twitched with repulsion, disgusted with himself as he felt his body respond. "Come up to my room tonight," she purred into his ear before licking it. The blonde singer obviously mistook his shudder of revulsion as one of desire when she added, "Unless you want to do it now?"

"Uh, now?" Trying to keep the panic from his tone, he searched his mind for a plausible excuse. Paige had the cloning device, she was going to seek out Nazar when the roadies broke for lunch. He could hardly stroll up to her and ask for it. "Uh, I-I c-can't. . . I, um, I have to. . ."

"Hey, noob, where the fuck are you?" Walter slumped with relief as Akim's irate question rang out. "Dumb shit is always wandering off," the head roadie complained loudly. Walter heard a grunt in reply and wondered who the other man was talking to.

"S-Sorry," he said, not contrite at all, grateful for the excuse provided by Akim's intrusion, "I-I gotta get back to work." 

"My room, tonight after concert," she stated, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him against her.

"Uh, o-o-okay?" He had to reach out and grasp her hips to keep from stumbling, comparing their boniness to Paige's soft contours.

"You better fuck my brains out, noob," she murmured breathlessly, "or I'll tell Yuri he screwed me, and not your American whore."

He didn't have time to process her threat as her mouth descended upon his, all thoughts of Paige or anything else driven from his head as the blonde's tongue thrust its way between his lips.

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The horrible song lyrics included in this chapter were written by me. It was kind of fun to see what kind of dreck I could come up with. I think these are appropriately terrible.


	20. Chapter 20

_He didn't have time to process her threat as her mouth descended upon his, all thoughts of Paige or anything else driven from his head as the blonde's tongue thrust its way between his lips._

Oh. Hell. No.

It took every ounce of self-control Paige possessed not to march over to the kissing couple and yank Zalina away from Walter by her bleached blonde hair. Maybe knock a couple of teeth down the Russian bimbo's throat while she was at it.

As for Walter. . . She couldn't see his face, the backup singer's big stupid head was blocking her view. But she could see his hands tighten their grip on the other woman's bony hips, watched as his fingers slid downward toward her ass. . . 

Rage flowed through her and she took a step toward them, coming to an immediate halt as the pair separated. Zalina murmured something she couldn't catch into Walter's ear before snatching up her bag and walking off, allowing Paige to glimpse his face. It certainly _looked_ like he'd been enjoying himself. His eyes were glazed and an odd smirk graced his mouth.

Then his whole body shuddered and he darted toward the nearest exit. Paige glanced from side to side, determined no one was paying attention to her before hurrying after him. She arrived in time to see him empty the contents of his stomach next to a dumpster.

"Oh, God, Walter, are you all right?" She reached out and touched his shoulder, causing him to flinch violently away. Clutching his abdomen with one hand, he braced the other against the concrete wall of the venue. His raspy breathing filled the air.

He shook his head. "P-Paige, I'm. . .I'm s-sorry. . ."

"It's not your fault," she said, her earlier anger dissipating. "Walter. . ."

"She knows." He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth as he straightened, keeping his gaze aimed at the ground. 

"Knows what?" Paige didn't like the fact he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"She said I h-have to. . .w-with her," he began, his voice shaking, "or she'll t-tell Yuri y-you didn't. . .you didn't w-with him."

"Oh, God." She felt as though she had been dropped into the middle of a nightmare. She'd convinced herself Zalina was just being a bitch, and had no idea whether or not Paige had slept with Yuri. Although, now that she thought about it, there had been an appalling lack of evidence. Just an unbuttoned shirt and an unzipped pair of leather trousers.

Pressing her hand to her forehead, she realized how stupid she'd been. Granted, it'd been awhile since she'd had sex, but now that she and Walter had. . . She'd been reminded sex left behind certain smells and sticky fluids, things a woman like Zalina would be an expert at detecting. 

"I-I can't. . .I can't d-do it. . ." he was saying, still staring at his shoes.

"Of course not," she replied briskly, putting her hand on his arm. He didn't shrink away from her grasp this time, which she took as a sign of encouragement.. "Walter, I know you can't. I certainly don't want you to."

"But she's blackmailing you, us. . ." Finally, he lifted his head and she could see a swirl of emotions in his eyes; panic, fear, disgust. . . 

Paige took a deep breath. There was no way Zalina was going to get her claws into Walter. She probably should be, but she wasn't afraid of Yuri finding out she'd tricked him. He would come out looking like the fool if the others found out he hadn't really slept with her. . .and why. 

"Walter, you don't have to sleep with her," she declared, a grin growing on her face as her plan fell into place. "I need to talk to Toby. . .and then you and I need to put those condoms you bought to good use."

His expression was so puzzled, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She was about to explain what she meant when the door was flung wide, nearly hitting her.

"Dammit, noob. Where the fuck are you?" Akim's angry voice proceeded him outside. 

Walter unceremoniously shoved Paige behind the opened door, knocking her a bit off balance as he hid her from the other man's view. With an apologetic glance, he stepped out so the head roadie could see him. 

"S-Sorry," the genius said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh, I wasn't feeling well." He vaguely waved his hand in the direction of the dumpster.

"I said to come back sober." 

"You didn't say anything about being hungover." 

Hostile silence hung in the air before Akim replied with his usual threat. "Get back to work, noob, or you're fired."

"You keep saying that, but I've yet to see you actually fire anyone." Walter knew as soon as the words left his mouth he should have kept the thought to himself. Paige's soft gasp seconded his opinion.

"Fuck you," said the head roadie. "You lucky we're shorthanded. Get back to work." 

With that, he turned around and went inside the venue. Waiting until the door slammed behind the other man, Walter snuck a glance at Paige. 

"Dammit, Walter," she began, and he could hear the annoyance in her tone. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry." He stared down at his shoes. "I didn't mean. . . It's just he's always. . . But he's never. . ."

"That's still no reason to tempt fate." Paige sighed. "Okay, change of plans. . . I'll need to clone Nazar's phone now since we'll be. . .uh. . .busy. . . Later. . .during dinner break."

"Busy? Oh. . ." It finally dawned on him what she had in mind. _Oh, boy_. 

"You better get back to work before Akim does decide to fire you," she said, winding her arms around his neck. "It'll be okay, Walter." She kissed him on the cheek. "I want this to be over as much as you do." 

But that was the problem, he mused ten minutes later, peering up from the subwoofer he was repairing to observe Paige as she approached Nazar. He didn't want it to be over. . .not if it meant their relationship would be over as well. Because being in love with her was the one thing in his life he knew would never end.

______

Paige walked as casually as she could toward the roadie Walter had pointed out to her. Nazar was a few inches shorter than the genius, with a much stockier build. His coloring was the same; dark hair, dark eyes, and he wasn't unpleasant to look at. But he was missing something, something which Walter had. The something that had made her fall head over heels in love with him.

The other man was fiddling around with a guitar when she stopped in front of him. According to Walter, Nazar was in charge of the band's instruments. Paige checked her watch as she turned on the cloning device, hoping the roadie had his phone with him, or else her little ruse was all for naught.

"Hey, Nazar, isn't it?" she asked a bit breathlessly. He grunted, not looking away from the tuning pegs he was adjusting. "Do you play?"

He glanced over at her then. "A little," he said, eyeing her with suspicion.

"Oh, I've always wanted to learn how to play," she gushed. "Maybe you could teach me a few chords."

"Sorry, I'm not suppose to play instruments, just tune them."

"Oh, please," she wheedled, "one little chord won't hur. . ."

"Hey, you. Paige." She turned her head to see Darby hustling toward her. "You need to practice new song one more time. You know where Zalina and Anya at?"

"No, I haven't seen them for awhile." She sidled closer to Nazar. "Maybe you can give me a private lesson later?" she purred in what she hoped was a seductive tone.

"Lesson in what?" the manager asked as he dabbed his forehead with a large white handkerchief.

"Oh, how to play the guitar," replied Paige, pointing to the instrument in the roadie's hands. She was sure the mindless smile on her face was an unflattering grimace, but neither man seemed to notice.

Darby let out a loud chuckle. "If you serious about learning to play, you should ask Alexei."

"Alexei? Who's Alexei?" 

" Zhalo's guitarist." The portly manager jabbed a finger across the stage at a man with stringy long brown hair standing next to Yuri as the band members practiced their choreographed dance moves. "You not know this?"

"I'm just terrible with names," Paige said, bobbling her head like she was a ditzy starlet. "Silly me." Sneaking a peek at her watch, she saw the three minutes were up and Nazar's phone was cloned. Turning off the device was going to have to wait, however, as both men were staring at her.

Darby shook his head. "Come with me. We go find other girls." 

"Okay," she readily agreed before glancing at the roadie. "Sorry to bother you."

Nazar just grunted again. With an inward sigh, Paige followed the manager in search of her fellow backup singers.

_____

"Oh, God, Walter." Paige collapsed on top of him as he groaned out his own release. The room was filled with nothing but the sound of their harsh breathing for several minutes

He moved first, pressing his lips against her neck. "I love you," he murmured, kissing her ear. 

"I love you, too," she whispered back as he caressed his hands up and down her back. 

"It, uh, it felt d-different," he said before adding, "n-not b-bad different, but different."

"And now you know why most guys don't like to wear condoms," she said with a chuckle. "Just tell yourself it's for the greater good."

"Greater good, huh?" He grinned mischievously, totally melting her heart into mush. Lifting her mouth, she mashed it onto his, 

A knock rang out on the hotel room door. "Oh, crap," Paige said, rolling off of him and sliding out of the bed. "Quick, in the bathroom. And don't forget. . ." She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of his groin.

Paige snatched up her robe as Walter dashed into the other room. Suppressing a smile as she caught a glimpse of his naked bum, she secured the belt before peeking through the viewing hole. 

"Get in here," she said as she opened the door, yanking Toby inside before closing it again. "Did anyone see you come up here?" she asked as he stumbled over his own feet

"Several people," he declared, regaining his balance. "It's not as though I'm invisible. Although that would be a cool superpower."

"You know what I mean."

"Not as far as I know," the shrink shrugged as he reached into his jacket and produced a small vial. "This must be the first time a guy roofies a woman so he _doesn't_ have to have sex with her," he said with a cheeky grin.

Paige just rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Toby." Taking the drug from him, she then tried to push him back toward the door. But he stood his ground, not budging an inch.

"Speaking of having sex," drawled the psychiatrist, looking her up and down then deliberately staring at the mussed up bed, "you look well ravished. Where's 197? Hiding in the bathroom?" He rose up onto his toes, attempting to peer over her shoulder.

"Dammit, Toby, it's none of your business." The last thing Walter needed right now was for the shrink to tease him. Narrowing her eyes, she glared at the other man until he held up his hands.

"Okay, okay." He took a step back. "Do you know where Happy is?"

"I haven't seen her since earlier this afternoon," Paige replied. "I think she went out with the rest of the roadies to get dinner."

Toby frowned. "With the other roadies? Does that included Akim?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"Shit." 

"I thought you guys made up," she said. 

"I thought we did, too." The shrink took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. "You and Wally need to stop screwing around, both figuratively and literally, and solve this case."

Heat rose on her cheeks and she ducked her head so the psychiatrist couldn't see her blush. It had be the newness of it all. It wasn't because she was embarrassed to be with Walter. She just wished it hadn't become common knowledge so quickly, although she should have expected it, considering there were few, if any, secrets in the garage.

She took a calming breath before replying. "It's not that simple, Toby. We can't just walk up to people and ask them if they're illegally arming a rebellion."

"I know that." The shrink shifted his gaze to the floor. "I'm worried about Happy. She's on a self-destructive path and this constant circus atmosphere you're all caught up in is like pouring gasoline on a fire."

"I'm sorry," she said with a nod. "But we're doing the best we can. Hopefully, we'll narrow down the suspects even more tonight."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Toby grinned impishly. "197's going to have his hands full from what I've heard. I mean really full." He made a gesture with his hands which raised Paige's ire.

"You're not helping," she snapped. The whole idea of Walter being alone with Zalina, let alone touching the blonde singer made her sick to her stomach. 

"Sorry." The psychiatrist sighed. "Seriously, though, you don't have anything to be concerned about. You're it for him. He's never wanted anyone else like he wants you." A sad smile touched his lips. "I better leave you guys to it."

"Hey, it will be okay," she said, holding up the vial. "And thanks."

"No problema." Toby lifted his chin in acknowledgment as he exited the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Walter emerged fully clothed from the bathroom. "How much of that did you hear?" she asked, a little disappointed he'd gotten dressed.

"Most of it." Flicking his eyes between the floor and her face, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I'll be f-fine. What he said was true. I don't want anyone else but you."

Paige closed the space between them, sliding her arms up his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. "It's not that I don't trust you. I do. It's her I can't trust." She touched her forehead to his. "We still have 50 minutes until sound check. We can. . ."

Paige had to stifle a giggle at how fast Walter whipped off his t-shirt.


	21. Chapter 21

"Hey, noob!" 

Walter jumped at the sound of Akim's voice coming from his left. He'd plugged his ears with cotton balls to filter out Zhalo's deafening music and the screaming of several thousand of their fans. The actual concerts were his least favorite part of working for the band.

Glancing up from the sound board, he sighed. "What?"

"One of the guitar amps blew," said the head roadie. "Go fix it."

"Okay." He adjusted a knob before moving away and letting the other man take over.

Walter caught a glimpse of Happy as he made his way to the amp stack. She was refilling charges behind the drummer, a huge grin on her face, obviously loving the noise and explosion-filled atmosphere he abhorred. 

It took him a few moments to determine which amplifier was in need of repair. Most of the band's equipment had seen better days, in his opinion. Blowing all their earnings on drugs and creature comforts instead of investing in the hardware they needed. . . He just shook his head at their shortsightedness.

Once he had the amp back on line, he peered around the corner. From his vantage point, he could see most of the stage, including the three backup singers. Paige was standing in the middle of the trio, her short black skirt showing off her long shapely legs. Legs which had been wrapped around him only hours earlier as they'd. . . A groan escaped his throat as he watched her swing her hips in rhythm with the music. 

The band banged out the final notes of the song they'd been playing, dragging him out of his erotic memories. Yuri snatched his microphone off its stand. "Don't cup it, moron," Walter muttered under his breath. 

His warning went unheeded as feedback squealed through the speakers when the lead singer shouted at the crowd, "You guys are great! Love you, LA!" The fans shrieked and waved their arms in the air at the mention of their city. 

Walter shook his head as he mumbled, "Idiots." Intending to go back to relieve Akim from the sound board, a movement out in the audience caught his eye as he turned away. A man near the back of the venue was waving a sign, which itself wasn't unusual. But this one said "Free Samatov" and the man holding it was wearing a black ski mask over his head.

Several more masked people flooded the venue, carrying similar signs and chanting in English and Russian. Pulling the cotton from his ears, Walter stepped out from the stack of equipment as security guards began chasing the protesters. Spying Cabe in the fracas, he watched the older man tackle one of the demonstrators from behind, driving the man to the floor. A nearby guard struggled with another of the Samatovans, with the protester snatching a gun and waving it above his head.

The concert goers began screaming and trying to push their way out of the venue. Some of them clambered onto the stage, shoving the band aside in their panic. Walter had been rooted to the spot, staring in fascinated horror as the scene played out in front of him. The sight of the weapon being brandished so recklessly, spurred him to action.

"Paige!" he shouted into the din. The stage was filled with people, members of Zhalo and fans alike. He cleared a path through the panicking bodies, coming to a halt when he saw Paige still standing on the riser, staring in shock at the madness all around her. 

He'd almost reached her when someone bumped into her, knocking her off the two foot high step. "Paige!" His heart pounding in his chest, he ran to where she was lying on the floor, the risk she'd be trampled increasing with each person who stampeded past. 

"Paige! Talk to me!" he called out as he slid on his knees next to her, tentatively touching her shoulder and giving her a little shake.

"I'm. . .I'm okay. . .I'm okay, Walter," she replied a little breathlessly. "I. . .I think I. . .I just had the wind knocked out of me."

"Can you stand?" She nodded and he helped her to her feet. "Here, behind these speakers." She leaned against him as they moved in the direction he'd indicated. 

"Oh, God," she said, slipping her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. Her breathing was fast and shallow, matching his as he enveloped her into an embrace. The chaos swirling around them started to fade, replaced by a calmness he only felt when she was near. 

Paige's sharp gasp burst his peaceful bubble. "Oh, no." She was glancing out into the confusion, pointing to a spot several feet away.

Following her aim, Walter saw Zalina sitting on the ground, holding her right ankle as people darted around her, some of them jostling her as they hurried past. She, too, was in danger of further injury if she wasn't relocated somewhere safer. He looked over at Paige, who nodded at his unspoken question. 

He dashed back out onto the stage, fighting his way to the blonde singer. "How bad it is?" he asked, waving his hand at her leg as he squatted next to her.

"It hurts," she blubbered, rubbing the swelling joint. Walter pressed his lips together to refrain from pointing out the six inch heels on her shoes probably hadn't helped her predicament. 

"We need to move," he urged as a middle-aged woman, her eyes wild, screaming at the top of her lungs, came charging toward them, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Shoving his hands under Zalina's armpits from behind, he lifted her up, sweeping her out of the path of the crazed woman with only seconds to spare. 

Adrenaline pumped through him as both he and the singer panted to catch their breath, her nasty perfume assailing his nostrils. It took Zalina snuggling into him to realize his hands were clutching her breasts. "Come on," he bit out, placing her left arm around his shoulder, but not before he'd felt her hardening nipples against his palms. 

He led the limping singer to where Paige was waiting, the unmistakable glare of anger marring her beautiful features informing him she'd witnessed his gaffe. Her fury was short-lived, however, as a gunshot rang out.

An eerie silence hung in the air, the echoing of the blast the only sound for an long moment. Shrieks and shouts and panicked footsteps broke the quiet, the noise intensified by the addition of sirens. Walter worriedly scanned the pandemonium for Cabe, who'd been in the thick of the commotion. Relief filled him as he spotted the Homeland agent cuffing a mask wearing demonstrator; a relief which was quickly replaced by concern when he remembered he hadn't seen Happy since before he'd fixed the amp.

_Shit_. He needed to get Paige and Zalina safely out of the venue, but he also needed to find the mechanic, if for no other reason than to reassure himself she was okay. The backstage was crowded with people, band members, roadies, concert goers, security, all running around frantically. Darby was waddling about in a circle, flapping his hands and shouting in both broken English and fluent Russian. Translating what he could understand of the manager's native tongue, Walter wondered what he meant by "we're screwed now" and "everything's ruined," echoing the same phrase Nazar had used the other day on the bus.

"Come on," he said, once again assisting Zalina as she hopped on her good foot. A tug on the back of his jeans let him know Paige was following him. It was slow going as he made his way toward one of the exits. Halfway across the room, he caught a glimpse of Happy. . .huddling behind a couple of crates with Akim. The pair appeared to have reconciled, since the mechanic was allowing the head roadie to drape his arm around her. 

"Police! Freeze!" An authoritative voice called out, stopping everyone in their tracks. Armed SWAT team members swarmed the area. "Hands on top of your heads!"

Releasing the hold he'd had on Zalina's waist, Walter did as he was instructed. The blonde singer tried to obey as well, but lost her balance, crashing against him, letting out a cry of pain when her right foot touched the ground. Walter reached out to steady her, allowing her to take weight off her injury.

"Hands on your head, jackass!" One of the cops nudged Walter's back with the barrel of his rifle.

"Her ankle is sprained," the genius snapped. "She's part of the band, one of the backup singers."

"And who the hell are you?" the officer asked, taking in Zalina's low cut top and obvious stage makeup.

"I'm. . .I'm one of the roadies. Sound technician." 

"Let's see some identification." Walter slowly reached into his front pocket, which not only held his backstage pass but the vial of Rohypnol. Hoping the cop wouldn't decide to search him, he presented his pass. The other man whipped out a flashlight and shined it on the ID, then at Walter's face. "Yours, too," he said to Zalina. 

With a coy smile, the blonde stuck her hand down the front of her blouse, leisurely withdrawing her pass from between her breasts. Walter gulped uncomfortably as she handed it to the officer, waving it at him when he didn't immediately respond. "Uh, yeah, okay," the other man finally said. "Take her outside to an ambulance."

The cop said something into the radio on his collar as Walter and Zalina moved toward the nearest exit. Looking over his shoulder, he expected to see Paige right behind them, but she was nowhere to be found. _Dammit_. She must have been swept along with all the others being herded outside. 

Frantically he searched for her but couldn't find her in the mass of people. He felt Zalina shift her body closer to his, sending unwelcome sensations up his spine. He knew helping Zalina played into the deception he was interested in her and not the liaison. But that knowledge didn't calm his fear for Paige's safety.

With a weary sigh, he adjusted his hold onto Zalina, then led her out of the building.

_____

An hour later, Walter stood next to an ambulance, holding Zalina's shoes as her ankle was being wrapped by a paramedic. "You'll need to stay off of it for a day or two," the EMT instructed.

"Oh, I plan on spending plenty of time in bed," she purred, winking at Walter in a way even he could understand. _Oh, boy_.

"You okay?" Darby asked the injured singer as he came bustling up to the emergency vehicle. Yuri, Akim, and most of the band and crew, including Paige and Happy, followed behind him. The liaison flashed him a quick smile, which he hoped meant she was all right.

"I'm fine," Zalina said. "Just little sprain."

"Good, good." Darby lightly patted her on the shoulder before turning to the band leader. "See, she okay."

"I still think we should cancel. . ." Yuri began.

"Nyet, we not cancel." 

"What if there are more protesters?" asked the lead singer, tossing back his long blond hair. "Someone could get killed next time."

Walter rolled his eyes at the whine in Yuri's voice, no doubt worried he'd be the one killed. A death the genius would be hard-pressed to mourn. It hadn't even been one of the demonstrators who'd fired a weapon. One of the younger security guards had shot at the ceiling, thinking it would calm down the panicked crowd. He'd been wrong, of course, and had gotten his ass chewed by Cabe.

"We have contract," the manager declared, shaking his head. "We no show we lose money." Walter noticed the man seemed more on edge than usual. Which was understandable, he conceded with a shrug, considering everything which had happened that evening.

"When are they gonna let us back in?" asked Akim. "How we supposed to do our job?"

"No worry." Raising his arms, Darby called for everyone's attention. "Go back to hotel. We take of everything tomorrow."

"All right," said Yuri, slapping the manager on the back. "Party at my place." He and the other band members started giving each other high fives and fist bumps.

Walter flung a glance at Paige, taking in her crossed arms and troubled expression. He didn't know why she was worried, their plan was still on track. If anything, he was more concerned she'd be partying with Yuri without him there to protect her. He tried to grin reassuringly at her, but evidently failed as her face grew even more uneasy.

"Shit," said Darby, catching Walter's attention. "What those?" 

"My guess is bomb sniffing dogs," said Happy as they all focused on the four German Shepherds being led into the building. 

"They go backstage?" asked the manager, confusion and concern clashing on his face.

"Probably." The mechanic smacked Akim's arm. "We didn't have time to secure the pyrotechnics. If they confiscate all our fireworks. . .not good"

"I go talk to them." Darby pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. "Akim, Pavel, come with me," he said, singling out the head roadie and the senior pyrotechnician.

"Do they sniff drugs too?" Anya inquired as the manager and the other two men walked away. "That how Mila got busted."

"Probably," Happy replied again.

Murmurs of "Oh, shit' in both English and Russian rippled through the group assembled around the ambulance. Most of them took off, heading toward the venue, no doubt to retrieve their contraband. Several of the roadies patted Walter on the shoulder or clapped him on the back as they moved past him. A few gave him a thumbs up while others wished him "Good luck."

He was puzzled for a moment, wondering about his co-workers' sudden camaraderie. Zalina's hand tightened its grip on his arm, and he realized they all thought he was going to have sex with her. A wave of squeamishness swept over him, the idea of drugging her unexpectedly feeling very wrong. He tried to assuage his conscience by telling himself the alternative, actual intercourse with her, would be an even worse transgression.

A waft of lavender teased his nose, startling him as Paige, accompanied by Happy and Anya, walked by. "Be careful, she breathed into his ear. "I will," he mouthed back as her hand glided over his for a fleeting second. 

Walter watched her go, wishing he was leaving with her instead of staying behind with Zalina. A tug on his sleeve made him aware of the woman on the gurney beside him. "You and me. . ." Zalina began, rubbing her fingers up his biceps as she gazed at him in a vaguely threatening manner. "We have private party in my room, da?"

"Uh, yeah." Checking his pockets, he made sure he still had the vial, the cloning device, and the condoms. Paige's words to be careful echoed through his mind, words he planned to heed. He had no intention of letting things get out of control with Zalina.


	22. Chapter 22

Things got out of control with Zalina from the moment Walter entered her hotel room.

"Uh, nice room," he said as she tossed her bag inside. At least that's what he'd meant to say. His words were cut off at "Uh, ni. . ." when she swirled around and forced his back up against the door he'd just closed behind him.

"Finally, _lyubovnik_ ,"she murmured, her hot whisper scorching his ear as she rubbed herself against him. As he grunted in shock, she smashed her mouth onto his, thrusting her tongue between his open lips. 

Everything about her was wrong; how she smelled, how she tasted, how the weight and shape of her body felt on his, how she was touching him. . . He wanted to actively resist the assault on his senses, his heart telling him to push the singer away. He didn't want her. She wasn't Paige. 

But his brain overrode his heart, reminding him of the greater good as it shifted into reptilian mode, telling him to forget about his love for Paige and focus on his mission.

"Come on, let's fuck," Zalina said, lifting her mouth from his before limping over to the bed, pulling him with her. He stumbled, nearly knocking her down and falling on top of her. 

"Uh, why. . .why d-don't w-we have a dr-drink first," he countered as he awkwardly regained his balance. 

"I thought you say you don't drink," she said, flopping down on the mattress with a pout.

"I, uh, I thought I'd take you up on your offer from the other day to, y-you know, um, have a drink and get to. . .get to know each other b-better." 

"Oh, we're going to know each other," she purred as she laid back onto the bed, her short skirt riding up her bare legs. "We're going to screw each other's brains out." 

Walter averted his eyes away before he glimpsed something he really didn't want to see. Scanning the room, he spotted several bottles which appeared to contain alcohol on top of a small refrigerator. 

"Let's have a dr-drink first," he repeated, moving closer to the minibar.

"Why you so interested in drink?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as she rose up off the mattress and hobbled toward him. "I want to fuck now. We can drink later."

"I-I, um, I'm thirsty," he said, retreating backwards. "I. . .I. . ."

Zalina caught up to him when he smacked into the wall. Gripping his arms, she slid her hands upward and began skillfully massaging his shoulders. "Mmm, maybe we should have drink," she said. "You're so stiff. But not where you should be."

She reached toward his groin and he panicked for a second, not wanting her to find out what he had (and didn't have) in his jeans. He managed to slip away before she grabbed him. 

"S-Sorry," he mumbled, flicking his eyes between her face and the floor. "It. . .It's b-been a long day and. . ." Walter rubbed the back of his neck before waving his hand at the bottles of alcohol. "Vodka or. . ."

"The vodka," she replied with a husky laugh. "You haven't had vodka until you drink real Russian vodka. Here," she said, moving toward the minibar , "let me get it for you."

"No, you're supposed to be resting your ankle," he countered, blocking her way. "Uh, why don't y-you, um, w-wait on. . .on the bed?"

"Okay." She hobbled over to the bed, crawling up toward the headboard, where she arranged herself against the pillows. 

Taking a deep breath, Walter picked up the vodka, unscrewing the lid then divided the contents between two glasses he found next to the minibar. As surreptitiously as he could, he pulled the vial from his pocket and added two drops (per Toby's instructions) to one of the cups.

Zalina must not have noticed his actions as she readily accepted the glass he proffered her. "How you say it. . . Cheers?" she said, lifting her cup in the air

"Uh, yeah, cheers." He raised his drink as well before taking a sip. The singer knocked back hers in one shot, licking her lips as she set the cup down on the closest nightstand. 

He would have been alarmed by the lascivious stare she was giving him if he hadn't been struggling to breathe, the alcohol burning its way down his throat. Focusing all his attention trying not to cough and sputter, he was taken completely off guard when she rose up off the mattress and snaked her arms around his neck.

"Okay, you have your drink now," she said, taking the glass from his hand and drinking it down as well, tossing it to the floor when she was done. 

Her fingers kneaded his shoulders to his arms, giving his biceps a squeeze. "I like man with muscles," she said, her busy hands then wandering down his back until they cupped his buttocks, giving then a not-so-gentle squeeze. "And a tight ass." 

She began undoing the buttons of the flannel shirt he'd deliberately fastened up to the top. "Relax," she murmured before kissing him again. She plunged her tongue into his mouth again as she worked her way downward.

Tugging his shirt off his shoulders, Zalina flung it across the room before sliding her hands down the front of his tee. When she reached the waistband of his jeans, she slipped her fingers up under the thin layer of cloth, to the bare skin underneath.

Walter shuddered with revulsion, struggling not to flee the room. The drug should have been taken effect by now. Toby said it would work in a few minutes. That had obviously been a lie, as a wholly unaffected Zalina licked up and down his neck before stopping and sucking on a spot near his collarbone.

She was touching him in areas he'd had no idea were sexually stimulating until just a few days ago, and as much as he tried to resist, he couldn't stop himself from reacting. Closing his eyes, he allowed images of Paige drift through his mind, reminding him of how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, and how being with her was so wonderful. . .

Abruptly, he shut off his brain as his body began to respond to his memories of having sex with the liaison. "Hey," he said as she yanked his undershirt over his head and flung it across the room. "Uh, we, uh. . ." 

She ran her hands up and down his bare chest before pushing him backward onto the bed. "I thought you want me," she said petulantly pinning him to the mattress as she straddled him. "Why you so nervous, _lyubovnik_?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have sex before, da?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied, scratching the back of his head. "It's just, uh, it's just been. . .been awhile." She didn't need to know it had been all his life until only two days ago.

She gave a short hoarse laugh. "You not forget how?"

"No, I remember the basic physiology. . ." His words trailed off as she pressed herself against his groin, making him certain she wasn't wearing any undergarments as he could feel her heat. . .and dampness through his clothing.

"So, you play. . .what. . .hard to get?" More like hard to get hard," she muttered with a husky chuckle.

"N-No. I. . .I. . .I. . ." He tried to affirm he did indeed want her, but the lie wedged itself in his throat.

Fear paralyzed him as she stripped off her top, displaying her braless breasts. She then wiggled out of her skirt, filling him with shame when he couldn't control his reaction to her movements. Clutching handfuls of the bedspread, his breathing coming in shallow pants, the sensations becoming too much to bear as she unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand into his boxers.

Walter bucked up off the mattress when she grasped him. "Umm, very. . .very. . .nice," she said, running her hand up and down his length, her words slightly slurring. 

"Pl-Please. . .please. . ." Not knowing if he was begging her to stop or for the drug to kick in since it didn't matter. Tears stung his eyes as she positioned herself over him, bringing home the disconcerting fact if he moved just a millimeter or so upward, they would. . . 

He retreated into the safe haven of his brain, one last lingering thought resounding through his head.

He loved Paige. And he'd failed her.

_____

Paige paced back and forth in her hotel room, absently noting she was wearing a groove into the thick carpeting. It seemed like it had been hours since she'd left Walter by the ambulance. With Zalina. Holding her shoes and her hand.

With a groan, she pushed her irrational jealous thoughts from her mind as she checked her watch for at least the 20th time in the last 20 minutes. Why was it taking so long? Walter was supposed to go to Zalina's room, drug her drink, then she was supposed to pass out so he could clone her phone. In her head, it shouldn't have taken more than half an hour, remembering her own rendezvous with Yuri while cloning his cell. 

Then she remembered Zalina's injured ankle. Maybe there had been paperwork to fill out? Maybe it had taken longer for them to get to the singer's room? Maybe he'd gotten lost on his way back to her room? There was another possibility, one she didn't even want to think about, let alone consider. 

With a shake of her head, she tried to convince herself she was concerned over nothing. Walter would be knocking on her door any second now, triumphant and arrogant their scheme had worked without a hitch.

Another ten minutes later, as she continued to tromp down the carpet, a muffled noise out in the hallway caught her attention, bringing her to a halt. Was that Walter? She stepped toward the door, waiting for the sound of knuckles on wood. When it didn't come after several agonizing minutes, she peeked out of the peep hole. No one immediately came into view, but as she started to turn away, she caught a slight movement out of the corner of her left eye.. 

"Oh, God," she gasped as she flung the door wide open, "Walter." He sat on the floor with his back curled up against the wall, his head resting on his knees, violent tremors racking his body.

Getting down on the floor next to him, she extended her hand, placing it lightly on his shoulder as she softly spoke his name again. He flinched away from her touch with a guttural growl as he sprung to his feet. Slowly rising to hers, she took in his labored breathing, his disheveled appearance, and his inability to look her in the eye. 

He reeked of Zalina's heavy perfume and vomit. His t-shirt was inside out and backwards, the printed-on label prominently display on his chest. Glancing downward, her stomach churned at the sight of his fly only zipped halfway up . Oh, dear God, what had happened? Letting the other woman undress him had definitely _not_ been part of the plan. 

"It's okay," she said with a calmness she didn't feel. "Come inside and it'll be okay. Please, Walter."

With a faint nod, he stepped into her room, cringing again when she closed the door behind her. He floundered around awkwardly, shying away from the pieces of furniture he encountered, finally coming to a stop by the bed.

"Walter, it's all right," she lied as she came closer, her anxiety increasing as he vehemently shook his head. 

"No, n-no, it. . .it's n-not." He moved away from her, nearly sitting down on the bed before hopping back up as if it was on fire. 

Oh, God, why was he afraid of sitting on a bed? The tiny trace of residual anger burning inside her was quickly doused as she stared at him. He nervously raked his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his head. The collar of his shirt shifted, exposing a dark red splotch near the base of his throat. Oh God, was that a hickey? _Oh, God._

"Walter." He didn't react as she stroked the sleeve of his flannel shirt. She didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign, if he was comfortable with her touch or if he'd retreated so far into his mind. . .

"P-Paige." He startled her, even though he spoke in a barely audible voice, his gaze still firmly aimed at his shoes. "I. . .I. . ."

Biting her lip, she let her gaze travel over him. He was an incoherent quaking mess. Whatever had happened. . . _no matter what_. . It had not been his fault. 

Blinking back her own tears, she opened her arms and he fell into them. His hands slid around her waist, tentatively at first, then gripping her tighter as a sob tore its way through him. He burrowed his face into her shoulder, muffling his words. But she could still hear them, each one making her heart bleed for him.

"Paige. S-Sorry, so-sorry. I-I'm. . .I'm so-sorry."


	23. Chapter 23

**FORTY-FIVE MINUTES EARLIER**

"Pl-Please. . .please. . ." Not knowing if he was begging her to stop or for the drug to kick in since it didn't matter. Tears stung his eyes as she positioned herself over him, bringing home the disconcerting fact if he moved just a millimeter or so upward, they would. . . 

Then her eyes rolled back into their sockets and she collapsed on top of him. 

Walter didn't know how long he laid there; slowing his heart, quieting his breathing, gathering his wits. He slowly became aware of Zalina's bare skin resting against his groin. Panic paralyzed him, afraid of what would happen if he moved the wrong way. But staying in this precarious position wasn't an option. 

Gritting his teeth, he carefully rolled the unconscious singer off of him. She flopped onto her back, lying spread-eagle across the bed. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he dashed to the bathroom, where he proceeded to throw up until there was nothing left inside him. 

Sitting on the tile floor, his forehead resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet, he tried to recall the meticulous plan he'd concocted with. . . _Paige_. A guilty groan ripped through him as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He couldn't think of her. . .not here. . .not now. He needed to do what he came there to do and get out. 

Phone, he needed to clone the phone. Taking several deep ragged breaths, he rose up on unsteady legs. Stumbling into the bedroom, he located Zalina's purse which she'd tossed aside earlier and found her cell. With fumbling fingers, Walter activated the cloning device, setting the three minute waiting period in motion. 

He began to pace back and forth, synchronizing his steps as he counted off the seconds, keeping his gaze averted from the naked woman on the bed. ". . .179. . .180." Done. Good. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he turned off the device, and started to shove it back into the pocket of his jeans. He stilled as he realized he was naked from the waist up and his fly was undone and. . . 

Frantically, he rearranged himself and tugged at his zipper, desperately searching for his shirts. He found the red plaid flannel flung over a chair, and contemplated just putting it on when he spied his t-shirt. Grabbing it up off the floor, he yanked it over his head, then shrugged into the flannel. 

Once he was dressed, he slid the cloning device into his pocket, stopping when he felt a plastic bag. Oh damn, he'd almost forgotten what Paige had called an important aspect of their plan. Pulling out the baggy, he opened it up and dumped the used condoms it contained into the first waste basket he saw. 

After stuffing everything back into his pockets, he realized Zalina hadn't moved since she'd passed out. Fearing the worst, he reached for her wrist, sighing in relief as her pulse beat strongly under his fingers. She may be one of the most terrifying people he'd ever met, but it didn't mean he wanted her to come to any harm. 

Satisfied she would survive, Walter forced himself to walk the short distance to Paige's room. Standing outside her door, he raised his hand to knock, knowing she was eagerly waiting on the other side. His desire to see her warred with the shame roiling his gut. He didn't know how he could face her. He may have managed to clone Zalina's phone, but in every other facet of their plan. . . 

His legs buckled then, and he allowed himself to crumple to the floor. Tears leaked from his eyes as he curled himself in a tight ball. 

_He'd failed._

_____

"If. . .if she hadn't pass, passed out. . . I-I would have. . .we would have . . ." 

"Shh, shh. . ." Paige tried to comfort him after he'd finished describing what had gone on in Zalina's hotel room. Righteous fury flared within her, but it would have to wait. She needed to deal with Walter's tenuous emotional state first. Because he needed to know. . ."It wasn't your fault," she said, stroking her fingers down his back. 

He flinched violently, and she immediately relaxed her hold. "Y-Yes. Yes it is." He started pacing, agitatedly raking his hand through his hair. "I let it. . .I let it go too far. . .I. . ." 

Coming to a halt, he turned to her, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. She almost wished he hadn't. Shame and self-hatred filled their dark depths. She'd seen eyes like his before, too many times, in too many other victims of assault who blamed themselves. 

"No, _you_ didn't do anything," she stated firmly. 

"I know I didn't," he snapped, rubbing at his eyes. "I just let. . . I didn't stop. . .stop her." He drew in a ragged breath. "I-I don't. . .don't understand." 

"Understand what?" When he didn't answer, instead staring down at his feet once again, she became concerned. "Walter, please. . . What don't you understand?" 

"I love you," he declared, darting a quick glance at her. "Why would I. . .? I didn't. . .didn't want her. . . But I. . .I, um, I responded. . ." 

"Oh, sweetheart." Paige reached out to him, and when he didn't shy away, placed her hands on the sides of his face. "You do know it's possible to be intimate with someone you don't love. It happens all the time." 

"Not. . .Not to me. . . I've never. . ." 

"I know you haven't," she said before tilting her head to study him curiously. "You mean you've never been in love before, right? Not that you've never felt. . .sexual desire?" 

He shook his head. "It. . .sex. . .it never held much interest. I could ignore it for the most part, lose myself in my work, until sometimes I would have to. . .have to. . .myself." He broke off, his cheeks flushing a bright red. She knew what he meant, her own face growing warm. She'd gotten pent up during her near decade of unintended celibacy and had taken matters into her own hands on occasion. 

After taking a moment to compose himself, he continued, "When I met you. . . I'd never met anyone who. . .who stimulated me. . .that way. . .sexually. . .as much as you do. And now. . .this. . .what happened. . . I tried thinking of you. . .but. . .but that didn't work. It only made things worse. Not worse. . .more like. . .like. . ." He was shaking, almost incoherent with distress, no doubt believing she was angry with him. 

"Walter," she said patiently, "please don't think I'm upset with you. I'm not." She sighed resignedly. "I'm upset with myself. I should have sucked it up and spent three miserable minutes in her company instead of sending you into a situation for which you were ill-equipped." 

He kept his gaze diverted as she gently stroked his stubbled cheeks, his whiskers rough against her palms. "You had to suffer through what. . .what Yuri did," he murmured as he slid his hands around her waist. "I should have been able to. . .to handle her." 

"But instead she handled you." Her rage bubbled to the surface again. She wanted to confront Zalina, envisioned slapping the other woman silly. She couldn't though, not unless she wanted to blow their cover. She wished, and not for the first time, they would solve this stupid case and go home. 

"It wasn't your fault," she reassured him, her hands slipping from his face to the back of his head. He quivered under her touch but didn't pull away, which she considered a good sign. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked, threading her fingers through his thick curls. "If you need some time to process. . ." 

"I need you." He raised his eyes, her knees trembling at the raw passion she saw in them. _Oh, God_. He wanted to. . .with her. But what he was thinking. . . It had to be a terrible idea. She knew it would be the last thing on her mind if she'd been in his shoes. 

"Walter. . ." she began, meaning to talk him out of it. 

"I need you," he repeated. "Not because I want to erase. . .to erase _her_. . . Because I can't. . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The way my mind works. . ." 

"I know, sweetheart." She was well aware his eidetic memory was both a blessing and a curse. "Are you sure? You would want to after. . .everything?" Worried deep down he did want to erase what happened with Zalina, she hoped he wasn't once again diving in something over his head. 

"Yes." He kissed her; softly at first, then with a desperate hunger, her legs buckling as he eased his tongue into her mouth. Longing glided down her spine, pooling into a insistent ache between her thighs. He pressed himself against her and she gasped, getting a good whiff of the nauseating stench still clinging to him. 

"No offense," she choked out, pushing away from him. "But you stink. I think you might have to burn those clothes." 

Walter sniffed, getting a noseful of Zalina's obnoxious perfume and his own vomit. Stripping off his flannel shirt, he flung it aside. "I, uh, I probably should take. . .take a shower. . ." 

"I think that would be a good idea," she said, running a finger down the front of his tee.

He moaned softly. Everything about her felt so right; her lavender scent, the taste of her mouth, her body against his, her touch which simultaneously calmed him and drove him wild. It was true, no one else had ever aroused him like she did. Most of the time all she had to do was smile at him and his brain would stir up fantasies so erotic. . . 

Heat swamped him from head to toe, and he turned away, taking off his odious t-shirt as he headed for the bathroom. 

"Oh, my God, Walter. . ." Spinning back around, he caught her horrified expression. 

"What? What's wrong?" His embarrassment forgotten, he stepped toward her. 

"Your back. . ." She put her hand over her mouth, muffling her "Oh God." 

He tried to look over his shoulder before realizing it was an inefficient action. Making his way into the bathroom, he came to a halt as he glimpsed himself in the mirror. Shit, there was a large bruise at the base of his throat and a small scrape on his right shoulder. With a deliberate slowness, he twisted so his back was facing the mirror. 

Four parallel scratches ran several inches down each shoulder blade. A couple were still oozing blood, while others had congealed. Walter slumped, grasping the edge of the counter, closing his eyes as his breath came in panicked gulps. Bile rose in his throat and he willed himself not to be sick again. And now he knew they were there, the abrasions stung like hell. 

A small noise from the doorway made him glance up. Paige stood there, her eyes bright with tears, biting her lip. But under her concern for him, he noted her rage. He'd seen Paige in overprotective Mama Bear mode before, and was grateful he wasn't in Zalina's impractical shoes. The liaison appeared mad enough to literally tear the other woman apart with her bare hands. 

"Maybe I should go," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You can stay here and I'll go back to. . ." 

""No!" She couldn't leave. The thought of being alone, trying to cope on his own, filled him with dread. He reached out to her, lightly grasping her upper arms. "Please, don't. . ." 

"Walter, I don't think you're ready. . .for this. For sex," she clarified, raising her hands to cup his face again. 

"Paige," he murmured, lowering his gaze. "Maybe I'm not ready. . . But I need you to stay with me." 

Leaning forward, she touched her forehead to his. "It's not that I don't. . .want you. But you've been assaulted. Having sex isn't going to fix this. It would probably make it worse." 

He realized that. He'd been overwhelmed, overstimulated, and overset by what had happened. "I don't know if I can explain," he said, chewing his lip. "But you soothe me. And I need that. . .need you to help put my mind to rest." Dragging his thumb across the soft skin of her cheek, he then traced her lips. "I trust you." 

"I trust you, too," she said, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You'll have to let me know if you're uncomfor. . ." 

"I will," he cut in. "But I won't be. I love you." 

He drew her into his arms, lowering his mouth to hers, driving everything and everyone else out of his head.

_____

It was several hours later as Paige lay sated in Walter's arms when she remembered the reason for all the turmoil they'd gone through. "Hey," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "We forgot to send the data from her phone to Sly." 

He didn't answer right away and she thought he'd fallen asleep. "I did it earlier," he mumbled drowsily, rubbing his hand over his face. "While you were drying your hair." 

"Oh." The corners of her mouth curled into a smile. Images of her and Walter in the hotel bathroom's accommodating shower stall and then again on the very bed they were lying on, drifted through her mind. He'd been more aggressive both times they'd made love than he'd been before. And although she'd enjoyed it immensely, she also worried he'd been overcompensating because of what had happened with Zalina. 

Shoving her concerns to the back of her mind, she said, "I wonder why we haven't heard back from Sylvester about Nazar's phone yet. You sent it in hours ago." 

"Mmm, I'm sure there's a good reason," he replied, pulling her deeper into his arms and nuzzling her neck. "We can worry about it tomorrow." 

"It is tomorrow." 

"Later then." Pressing her lips to his, she felt him relax. It only took a few moments before his even breathing told her he'd fallen asleep. As much as she hated being wrong, she had to acknowledge he'd been right. He did need her. She was his safe place, his comfort zone, the only person he trusted completely. 

As she let herself float off, two unrelated thoughts swirled around inside her head. First of all, she hoped she could prove herself worthy of Walter's devotion. Secondly, why hadn't Sly gotten back to them? 


	24. Chapter 24

** MUCH EARLIER THAT EVENING **

"Oh, man, Walter's going to be pissed."

"First of all, yes, he is. Secondly, don't ever let your mom hear you say ‘pissed'," Toby admonished the young genius as he, Ralph, Cabe, and Sylvester stared at the remains of Walter's lab.

"I knew if I mixed molten sodium and water, they'd explode," explained the youngster as he took in the scorched table covered in shattered glass and melted plastic. "I just didn't realize it would be so. . ."

"Reckless?" "Stupid?" "Irresponsible?" Sly, Cabe, and Toby each took a turn finishing his sentence.

"Explosive." He grinned as the blast replayed in his head. "It was pretty cool though. And I got to use a fire extinguish. . ."

"That's nothing to be proud of, Ralphie boy." The shrink looked worried. 

"What are they teaching you in that camp anyway?" asked the Homeland agent.

Not much he didn't already know. But he'd known that when his mom had signed him up. It wasn't so much a chance to learn than it was to meet other kids his age interested in the sciences. "Today we learned about chemical reactions. Which ones are harmless and ones that aren't."

"So you decided to test one of the harmful ones?" Sylvester's voice had risen an octave and Ralph kind of felt bad he frightened the human calculator. He needed to make amends.

"I'm sorry," he announced somewhat truthfully. "I"ll clean up the mess and replace any damaged equipment."

"Damn right you will." Ralph could tell by Cabe's serious expression the older man would hold him to his word.

"That's all well and good," said Toby with a look in his eyes which made Ralph wary. "But why don't you tell me why you really did it? And none of that ‘I just wanted to see what would happen' crap. We may not be as smart as you, but we're not idiots either. What gives?"

Heaving a sigh of defeat, Ralph knew the doc would pester him until he confessed. Unconsciously he copied Walter, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at his shoes as he imparted emotional data he didn't understand. "Walter stayed in my mom's room last night. I. . .I know what that means."

The three men glanced at each uncomfortably as he continued. "Don't get me wrong, I've wanted them to be together since the beginning. So why wouldn't they tell me?" He scanned the men's faces, picking up guilt markers Toby had taught him to look for.

"You guys already knew, didn't you?" he accused. 

"They didn't tell us either, if that's what you're asking" said the shrink. "We figured it out on our own."

Sly whipped his head around to glare at the other man. "No you didn't. You eavesdropped on my conversation with Walter when I asked him if what Happy had told me was true."

The psychiatrist actually looked sheepish. "Oh yeah."

"Does it really matter how you found out?" asked Cabe. "I thought you said it's what you've wanted all along?"

"It is." Curling his hands into fists, he tried to explain what was bothering him. "But what if it's not real?" What if it's just until they find the gun smugglers and when the case is over, they go back to how it was after Tim left." When his mom had been fluctuating between being sad and angry and Walter had been acting like he was scared of his own shadow around her. It had been painful to witness the two people he loved most in the world being so miserable.

"Because the thought of that. . ." He broke off, trying to stave off the tears forming in his eyes. "Well, it made me want to explode."

"Ralphie boy." Toby crouched down in front of him. He was a little gratified the older man now had to look up at him when he did so. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. They've been falling for each other since the day they met. If anything, this case has sped up the timeline a bit. And when it's over. . ." The shrink patted him on the shoulder. "It's probably gonna be a little awkward, but I don't think they'll regress to where they were before. It'll be okay. Trust me."

"Okay." What the older man said made sense. Exhaling as the worry lifted off him, he glanced at the destroyed worktable. "Guess I better start cleaning this up."

Sly tousled his hair. "We'll all pitch in," he suggested. "Then maybe get something to eat."

"Count me out," said Cabe. "I gotta report in early tonight." He glanced at his watch before heading toward the door.

"Can we have pizza?" Ralph asked hopefully as he picked up the distorted remains of a petri dish.

"Sure, why not?" Toby came forward, holding a broom and dustpan. "We wouldn't want to break our nightly pizza consumption streak at six, would we?"

"Nope." Smiling as he tossed debris into a waste bin, Ralph decided while he'd had his doubts at first about the three men babysitting him, they'd turned out to be excellent caretakers. He just hoped Toby was right about his mom and Walter finally being together. It would make one of his dreams come true.

_____

Walter's phone rang as he accessed the venue the next morning. Darby hadn't specified a time for the roadies to come back, so he'd made the logical assumption nine o'clock would be the appropriate time to arrive. But evidently he'd been wrong, since the place was deserted.

"Walter?" Sylvester sounded confused. "Are you free to talk?"

"Hey, Sly," he greeted the human calculator. "Yeah, I can talk. You got the data from the phones?"

"Yeah," said the other man. "I've got bad news and worse news. Which one do you want first?"

"Uh, the bad news, I guess." Oh shit, he hadn't messed up while cloning Zalina's cell, had he? Most of the evening had been an unmitigated disaster, so it would hardly be much of a surprise. Only the time he'd spent with Paige had been successful. . .and amazing.

"Okay, well, the info you copied last night doesn't show anything definitively incriminating. Just a lot of calls to several numbers in Chechnya."

"That makes sense," Walter replied, swallowing his disappointment. "Paige said she had a fiancé from there. Maybe she's still in contact with his family?"

"I tried to look them up using a reverse directory, but. . . " The younger genius sighed in annoyance. "The Russian telecommunications network is a nightmare. I managed to trace one number to a woman who lives in Grozny, a Khava Koslov. But I couldn't find out anything about her besides her name. Cabe's running her through Homeland's database." 

"So that's the bad news. What's the worse news?" Walter closed his eyes, more than a little upset. He'd nearly been forced to have sex with another woman and his traumatic efforts had turned up nothing concrete. Disturbing imagery from the night before flashed through his head. He immediately tuned it out, concentrating on what Sylvester was saying.

". . .the phone Paige cloned." Sly exhaled loudly. "I think she may have inadvertently captured two cells at the same time. I can't tell which calls came from what phone. Which is really bad."

"Why?" Walter ran his hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Because I'm 99.9% positive one of them is your gun smuggler."

_____

Walter had attempted to call Paige as soon as he disconnected with Sylvester, but her phone went straight to voice mail. He wouldn't see her again until after they arrived in San Francisco. A fact which had weighed heavily on his mind when he had left her earlier that morning.

He didn't get a chance to try again as Akim, Mikhail, and a couple of the other roadies finally showed up. The head roadie started barking out orders, and Walter got the feeling the other man was pissed off he'd gotten there before the rest of them. 

"Hey, Groupie Boy." Happy's voice was accompanied by an elbow in his ribs.

He stopped coiling a cord as he turned in her direction. "Wha. . .?" His power of speech dwindled away as he got a good look of her.

The mechanic's dark hair now sported bright red braided streaks framing the sides of her face. And as he examined her closer, he noticed a small diamond sparkling above her left nostril.

"They'll grow out and grow shut. So pick your jaw up off the floor and tell me what's up."

Waving his hand at her, he said, "Why?" He'd known her for over six years. Or at least he thought he did. She'd never done anything with her hair except pin it back on occasion. And she'd worn jewelry before, just not in her nose.

"Why not?" Happy shrugged. "Jesus, Walt, don't get your panties in a wad. Anya and I got bored last night." 

"Uh. . ." His face grew hot and the question he didn't really want to ask burned in his throat.

"And no, I didn't sleep with her. Well, not that way." She rolled her eyes. "We just hung out. Not everything is about sex, dummy. Speaking of which. . ." Crossing her arms, she said, "Did you clone Zalina's phone?"

He nodded, flinching inwardly at the blonde singer's name being so casually spoken. 

"Did Sly find anything?"

"Yeah." Walter recounted what Sylvester had told him earlier. "Well, that sucks," she announced. "You didn't see who else was there with Paige and Nazar?"

"No, Akim had me go under the stage to make sure all the connections were secured." Walter furrowed his brow. "You didn't see anything?"

She shook her head. "I was setting charges behind the backdrop," she said. "Dammit. . ."

Whatever she'd been about to say was drowned out by the arrival by several band members, led by Yuri. "Where is Darby?" he called out as he glanced around the stage. 

"What this?" The manager hurried up to confront the group. "What going on?"

"We want you to cancel next concert," said the lead singer. "We took vote and. . ."

"What vote? I not vote. We lose money. . ."

"All you care about is money. Fuck money. What if there is protest again? What if someone gets killed next time?"

The two men started shouting and gesturing at each other. A shudder tore through Walter as he noticed Zalina standing next to Yuri, adding her voice to the fray. She evidently hadn't notice him - yet. 

Memories flooded his consciousness. Memories of her hands touching him, stroking him, her lips on his, how he'd almost. . . Gasping for breath, he began trembling as sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Oh, shit, he was going to be sick.

He turned away, heading into the dark recesses of the building. Collapsing against a wall, he gulped in large quantities of air, trying to quell his panic, more than a little pissed with himself for allowing her to affect him this way. 

After several long minutes of focusing on Paige and how wonderful she was, he felt calmer. His eyes had adjusted to the poorly lit alcove, which appeared to be some kind of storage area for odds and ends. It was mostly audio and video equipment except for two large crates pushed up against a wall. 

Walter frowned, recalling a pair of similar looking crates backstage at the venue in San Diego. It couldn't be a coincidence. Sure of their content, he searched for something to pry one open. In the distance, he could hear the others still arguing. Singling out Akim's not-so-dulcet bellowing, he hoped it would be awhile before he was missed.

Five minutes later, holding a discarded microphone stand, he calculated how much force he'd need to use, taking into account its sturdiness (or rather it's lack thereof) and where to place the fulcrum for optimal efficiency. In the back of his brain, he knew his chance of success was low and he proved himself correct as the stand nearly bent in half as he attempted to utilize it.

Walter tossed the twisted metal aside. It clanged against something, something whose contents shifted in a very familiar way. Stepping around a broken folding chair, he looked down and smiled. A rusty old tool box sat on the floor, filled with scarred wrenches and dull screwdrivers and. . .a crow bar. 

Within seconds, he was forcing the lid of the crate loose. Frustration filled him as chunks of thick grey packing foam covered whatever was inside. Impatiently he pitched a piece of the material over his shoulder, wincing as the motion pulled at the healing scratches on his back. Gritting his teeth, he continued on until he could see what lay underneath.

"Oh boy." He exhaled loudly. At least a dozen rifles rested atop another layer of the grey foam and he could tell there were more beneath. Both sides of the crate were stacked with small boxes. He lifted the lid of the nearest one, staring at the grenades cradled in more packing material. 

There was only one thing he could do. Yanking his phone from his pocket, he hit speed dial. "Cabe?"

The older man cleared his throat, and he belatedly realized he probably woke up the agent. "Walter, what's up?" asked Cabe in a groggy voice which confirmed his suspicion.

"Sorry if I woke. . ."

"No, it's okay. I gotta hit the head anyway." His mentor chuckled then sobered. "Did you find out who the other phone belongs to?"

"No. I found a container filled with. . ."

Behind him, Walter heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked, followed by a voice he instantly recognized. 

"Drop phone. . .or I shoot."


	25. Chapter 25

Walter could hear Cabe calling his name as his cell slipped from his hand, landing on the grey foam inside the crate. 

"Hands up. Turn ‘round."

"You're not going to shoot me," Walter said as he did as instructed.

Ivan Darbinian, aka Darby, stood in front of him, wearing one of his outdated polyester suits and a sheen of sweat on his broad forehead. He'd been the owner of the phone Paige had accidentally cloned. Grateful she was far away at the moment, Walter kept his eyes trained on the manager/gun smuggler. 

"How you know I not shoot you?"

"Because we're standing inside a structure with acoustics engineered specifically for music and theater productions," stated Walter with a confidence he wasn't feeling. "The sound of a gunshot will reverberate throughout the building, attracting attention I don't think you want.

"Also, I could be wrong but I doubt it, I don't believe you could shoot anyone. You could have killed those ATF agents instead of planting drugs on them in Dallas. Plus, the way you're sweating, the way your hand is shaking. . . There's a 57% chance you'd miss me even if you did work up the nerve to pull the trigger."

"How you. . .? Who are you?" The other man adjusted his grip on his pistol. "You talk too much. Maybe I shoot you so you shut up."

"Like I said, that would be a mistake." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Who I am doesn't matter. The Feds are on their way." He'd left his call to Cabe connected, hoping he was right and the Homeland agent was still listening to his conversation with the manager while simultaneously contacting law enforcement. 

"I shoulda guess you were spy," said Darby. "You stupidest roadie I ever see."

Walter would liked to have argued that point but thought better of it. "You should have known you would get caught. What you were attempting to do. . . It would not have ended well."

"What you know?" the manager replied defiantly. "We Samatovans have just as much right to be free as you Americans."

He snorted derisively. Like any person or country was truly free. But now wasn't the time for that debate. "You need to put down the gun and. . ."

"Walter?" 

His heart leapt into his throat as Paige came into view behind the manager. Dammit, she was supposed to be back at the hotel, waiting for the band's afternoon flight north. Not wandering around backstage looking for him. Not putting herself into danger. 

"Paige. . . Get out of here!" he shouted, staring into her panic-stricken eyes.

Darby turned to see the liaison behind him. "Do as he say, girlie," he growled. "Or I shoot." He waved his pistol threateningly in Walter's direction.

Doing a quick calculation of the odds, which were only slightly in his favor, yet better than the chance Paige would be injured, he lunged forward as soon as the other man's attention was diverted. As if he were moving in slow motion, he grabbed Darby's arm and forced it downward. The manager sluggishly swung his head back around, an almost comical expression on his face. 

Walter tried to wrapped his hand around the gun but Darby shoved him sideways, nearly knocking him off his feet. Regaining his balance, Walter dove for the pistol again, trying to wrest it from the other man's grip.

A bright flash blinded him for a split second, followed by a deafening blast. Something bit the upper calf of his right leg as an eerie silence surrounded him. Then, from what sounded like a great distance, he could hear Paige screaming his name, Darby shouting something in Russian, the pounding of footsteps. The clatter of the weapon falling to the floor snapped him out of his dream-like state.

Glancing around, he found Paige standing behind Darby, her mouth hanging open, her expression a mixture of shock and fear. Relief swept over him as he realized she was still on her feet, no holes or visible bleeding anywhere on her person.

The manager appeared to be in one piece, and Walter was thankful for that as well. Sirens grew closer, more than likely the federal agents he'd promised were on their way. He kicked the pistol out of reach, a searing pain darting through his leg. Looking down, he was surprised to see a growing blood stain on his jeans.

"Oh, God, Walter." Paige took a step toward him as members of the band and crew rushed up behind her, coming to a halt. 

"What the fuck?" Yuri pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "What is going on?"

"He's been smuggling weapons out of the US," Walter replied, pointing at Darby. "To start a rebellion in Samatov against the Russian government."

"You fucking bastard!" The lead singer launched himself at the manager. "You risk Zhalo's reputation for some stupid ideological bullshit?"

Walter, astonished Yuri could use words with two syllables let alone six, stepped in between the two men, pushing the lead singer back. "Let the authorities handle this," he said firmly. Behind him, he once again heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. He turned around to see Nazar now pointing the weapon at Darby. 

"You son of bitch," said the roadie. "You're the one who planted drugs on Mila. I know something was wrong, she only smoke weed, not do heroin." The gun was shaking in his hand and Walter was afraid it was going to accidentally go off. "She find out about your smuggling, no?"

"Da, she did," said the manager. "She was gonna spill milk. I had to stop her."

"She's been locked up for over week now," Nazar said. "They won't let me talk to her. You ruined all our plans. We were gonna defect when we get to Canada. . . Get married." He made a wild gesture with his free hand. "You fuck it all up!" He then aimed more squarely at Darby.

"Don't do it, Nazar," cautioned Walter, holding out his arm. "I work with Homeland. They can get the charges against Mila dropped."

"And you two can be together again," Paige chimed in, smiling so brightly even he could tell it was false and that underneath her cheerfulness, she was scared to death.

"So put the gun down and back away." When the roadie hesitated, Walter added, "You have to decide which is more important, shooting him or being with the woman you love. If you kill him, you'll probably never see her again."

Nazar bowed his head and lowered the gun. Walter moved forward, wincing when he put pressure on his right leg. He took the pistol from the other man as law enforcement personnel from seemingly every level of government swarmed the area, telling everyone to freeze.

"Homeland Security," a familiar voice called out amid the others shouting their affiliations. Walter spun around to see Cabe flashing his badge as he headed their way. He lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Get a medic in here. We got a gunshot victim." 

Walter looked around, wondering who'd been shot. He took a step forward, grimacing as pain burned through his leg, something warm pooling around his ankle. It dawned on him then he was the one who'd been shot. 

"Smart move, son," said the older man, watching as other agents handcuffed Zhalo's manager. "Leaving your cell phone on, that is. We heard every word."

Walter grinned as he handed the other man the gun. "Well, he didn't say to turn it off."

Cabe glanced downward, and Walter followed his gaze to the torn and bloody leg of his jeans. "This, however. . ." The Homeland agent shook his head as he pointed at the still bleeding wound. "You tried to grab his weapon, didn't you?"

Running an agitated hand through his hair, Walter stared at the floor. "Yeah. Not one of my more brilliant ideas." 

The older man heaved a weary sigh. "Come on, let's find you somewhere to sit down." As Walter limped with Cabe toward a nearby folding chair, he saw Darby being led away by a couple of ATF agents.

It hit him then, like a ton of bricks. They'd caught the gun smuggler, hopefully stopping the loss of innocent lives. . . They could go home. It was over.

_____

Less than fifteen minutes later, Walter had his injured leg propped up on an overturned wastebasket Cabe had found. An EMT had slit open the seam of his jeans so he could clean out the bullet graze on his upper right calf. Gritting his teeth as the antiseptic stung, Walter glanced around, spotting Paige several feet away, appearing to be giving a statement to a LA police officer.

"You okay?"

He flinched as he recognized the Russian accented female voice accompanied by its overpowering scent. _Zalina_. Her appearance by his side was an unwelcome role reversal of less than ten hours earlier, when he'd been the one standing next to her while her injuries were attended to.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath as panic began to bubble up inside him. "Yeah," he said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching into fists. God, he hated this. His reaction to her. This visceral, illogical response which left him feeling ashamed and unclean. 

"So, what," she said, taking her hand from the pocket of her ratty fur jacket, "you secret agent man like Bond James Bond?" 

He only had a passing awareness of the popular spy movies so he just shook his head. "No."

She reached out in the direction of his thigh and he almost fell off the chair cringing away from her touch. He wished she would leave him alone. The memories of what had happened between them. . . Another knot twisted in his gut. 

"So you only pretend to like me?" A surreptitious peek at her face told him she was upset with him, which he didn't understand. She certainly hadn't taken his feelings into account when she'd coerced him into having sex with her. He saw no reason to spare hers.

"I was undercover. Everything was pretend." He deliberately kept his gaze focused on the white gaze being wound around his leg. 

"You asshole." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her hand as if she intended to slap him. 

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the patient." The paramedic glared at the singer, who let her arm drop back done to her side.

"You really need to back off, witch." Walter jerked his gaze upward at the sound of Paige's voice. 

"What's it to you?" Zalina took a step toward the liaison who came up to stand beside him. "He's not who he say he is. He lie to both of us."

Paige glanced over at Walter, pressing her lips together but still not quite suppressing a smirk. "I know exactly who he is," she replied, looking the other woman up and down, "and I know exactly what you are. An amoral harpy."

"Fuck you," snarled the blonde singer. "You lucky I not kick your ass."

"I'd like to see you try." Putting her hands on her hips, Paige stared challengingly at Zalina. Walter worried she was going punch the Russian again.

"Paige," he warned quietly. The backstage area was still crawling with law enforcement. If the two women started brawling, they would more than likely be arrested. 

"You can have him, bitch," Zalina sneered after a few tense moments, waving her hand at him. "He's lousy fuck anyway."

Paige laughed knowingly as she moved closer to the other woman. "Just leave him the hell alone. . .bitch." 

"Fuck you," the singer hissed before spinning around and flouncing off. Walter watched her go, thankful he'd probably never have to see her in person ever again. In his head, however. . . Queasiness threatened to overtake him once more as images he'd yet to bury began to flash through his mind.

"Hey."

He lifted his head to see Paige staring at him, an uncertain smile on her face. "Hey," he parroted back, grateful for the disruption.

"That was a stupid thing you did," she said, pointing at his leg. 

"I know." He ran his hand through his hair. "Better me than you though."

"Oh, God, Walter." Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Paige, I'm sorry. It's just a graze. Please, please don't cry." Please don't let her be crying because she was on the verge of telling him it was over. That it had been pretend between them as well. That once they were back at the garage, they'd go back to the impasse they'd been stuck in since the interloper's departure.

His own eyes started to grow damp at the thought of having to pretend he'd never told her he loved her. Of having to pretend he'd never been intimate with her. He didn't think he could.

"Dammit, Walter, you could have been killed," she scolded. "He could have. . .have killed you. . .and. . ." A sob broke free from her throat. 

"There was only a 18% chance I would have been. . ." he began to say.

"I don't care about your stupid odds," she snapped. "You. . ." Whatever else she'd been about it say came out as a sob. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder.

"Ma'am. . . Ma'am. . ." The EMT scowled at Walter, who just shrugged before slipping his hands around her waist. He certainly wasn't going to push her away. She was threading her fingers through his hair, sending shivers of desire down his spine. 

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said, straightening up and wiping at her damp cheeks. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?" She directed her question to the paramedic.

"He'll need to stay off it for a few days," the man said as he put away the roll of gauze. "And follow up with his regular doctor to make sure there isn't any nerve damage or infection."

"Okay, we can do that," Paige said, smiling at Walter.

‘We.' He liked the sound of that. 

Someone started shouting as Paige and the EMT helped him to his feet. Yuri was several feet away, whining to several police officers. "You can't just leave us here. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?"

"Don't be such perverted assholes," Walter muttered under his breath. Any sympathy he'd felt for the band and crew (which had never been much to be honest) had disappeared when he'd found the crate of weapons.

Paige giggled at his remark, and he grinned at her. "You ready to go home?" she asked.

Fighting a losing battle to contain his excitement, he replied with an enthusiastic, "Yes."


	26. Chapter 26

Nearly four hours later, Walter limped into the garage, leaning against Paige on one side while Happy hovered on the other. The painkillers he'd been given were wearing off and his wound throbbed uncomfortably.

"Hail the conquering heroes!" Toby called out as he jumped out of his chair. He loped toward them, stopping in his tracks a few yards in front of them. "Or should I say the conquered hero? Holy shit, Walt. What the hell happened?"

Walter glanced down at his torn and bloody jeans. "It's nothing. I'm fine," he replied through gritted teeth as the pain grew a little more intense.

"Yeah, because you sound fine." The shrink turned to Paige. "How is he really?"

"It's a shallow graze," she said before repeating the paramedic's instructions.

"You need me to look at it now?" Toby looked back at Walter who shook his head.

"Do you want to stay down here or go upstairs?" asked Paige, rubbing his back.

"Here." Walter let her lead him as he hobbled gingerly over to the couch. 

She slipped a pillow under his right knee. "Do you need another pill?" Before he could answer, the door creaked open and Cabe, along with the ATF agent Fitzsimmons, strolled inside.

"Good work, team," the Homeland agent announced. "Darbinian is singing like a canary.. We should have his associates in custody in a matter of hours."

"Mom!" Ralph ran inside the building, followed closely by a beaming Sylvester. After giving his mom an enthusiastic hug, the youngster was practically jumping up and down as he excitedly told her about his day camp.

Walter closed his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. The noise level quickly grew to an unbearable volume with everyone talking over each other. He'd hope to come back to the garage to some peace and quiet to counteract the chaos of the past week. Plus he wanted to be alone with Paige, although he had no idea how to broach the subject of their relationship. 

From the cacophony swirling around him, one voice rose above the rest. "Two shipments of weapons left the country right under their noses," Fitzsimmons commented snidely to Cabe. "For a team of geniuses, it sure took them long enough to solve this case."

Rage roiled up inside Walter at the ATF agent's insult. "We never should have taken this case in the first place," he shouted, trying to stand up. His injured leg buckled beneath him as Paige reached his side, guiding him back onto the sofa. 

"Walter, please. . ." She caressed her hand down his back in a gesture meant to calm him. But instead, she accidentally stroked the still raw scratches on his shoulder blades, causing him to flinch away from her touch. 

"You didn't give a damn what happened to us," he pointed out angrily, ignoring her plea. "You sent us in there like lambs to slaughter. . ."

"Walter," Cabe cautioned as he came up beside Paige. 

Brushing off the Homeland agent's concern, Walter continued to yell at Fitzsimmons. "We weren't prepared for what we encountered. The drugs and alcohol and s-s-sex. . ." He paused to take a ragged breath. "Paige was practically. . . And. . .and I . . .I. . . " His eyes darted to the liaison for a fleeting second. "I was. . .distracted by. . .things." Dropping his head into his hands, he added, "It's all. . .all my fault."

And it had been his fault. He'd failed on so many levels. Failed to figure out Darby was the smuggler, which had been crystal clear once he'd allowed the puzzle pieces to fall into place. Failed to protect Paige and Happy from the excesses of the band. Failed with Zalina by letting things with her get out of control. 

A shocked silence has settled over the garage as Walter's tirade stumbled to a halt. Toby cleared his throat and opened his mouth, then promptly closed it when Cabe glared at him. 

"Don't blame yourself, son," said the Homeland agent. 

"Who else would I blame?" Walter asked. "This is my team. My responsibility. My failure."

"But you didn't fail. You got the bad guy," Sylvester chimed in. 

"Yeah, after he let two shipments of guns leave the country." said Fitzsimmons. 

"Yeah, and just how many did ATF let slip through their fingers?" Cabe replied hotly. 

As the two agents argued, out of the corner of his eye, Walter saw Paige crouching down and talking to Ralph. The boy must have agreed with what she said because he nodded and smiled. Figuring she was sending him upstairs, away from the ‘adult' discussion, he was surprised when she turned and spoke to Toby. It became even more curious when the three of them headed to the row of beat up lockers behind Happy's work area.

Shutting his eyes again, Walter let his head rest on the couch. He must have drifted off because a dull clank startled him awake. He glanced up to see Paige holding a pair of crutches. "What. . .?"

"Get up, mister, you're coming home with me," she said, interrupting his question.

"Oh. . .okay." He clumsily got up off the sofa using the crutches. Taking a tentative step, he stopped. "What about Ralph? You haven't been able to spend much time with him because of the case. I don't want to intrude. . ."

"He's going to stay another night with the guys," Paige cut in again. "Apparently they've made plans to experiment with methane gas tonight."

Walter slid his gaze over to where Toby, Happy, and Ralph were interacting. "They're not by any chance having Mexican food, are they?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, Toby said something about bean and cheese burritos." Paige frowned. "Why?"

"Nothing," he replied with a shake of his head. The less she knew about the evening's "experiment", the better. He was certain Sylvester and Cabe wouldn't let things get too dangerous. "Are you sure you want me to. . ."

"Yes, come on." Paige picked up their bags and headed for the door. Holding it open so he could pass through, she waited as Ralph ran over to say goodbye. Giving him a hug, she said, "Be good. Love you."

The boy just grunted as she let go. Then he turned to Walter and embraced him. "Glad you're okay," Ralph mumbled against his chest before stepping away.

"Thanks, buddy." Walter barely choked out the words. Glancing at Paige, he noticed she was biting her lip, her eyes shimmering with tears.

Hope and despair warred inside him. The fact she was taking him to her condo, the fact she was crying. . . Either she meant to dump him in private or. . . 

Metallic rattling punctuated his progress as he made his way out to Paige's car. He was not a superstitious person. But he didn't want to dwell too hard on the second option.

_____

"Dig the new look."

Happy whipped around to stare at Toby, who gulped nervously when he glimpsed her furious eyes and mutinous mouth along with the red braids and nose piercing.

"Shut up, moron," she said tersely before spinning back around and picking up a mallet.

"What? No, really." He held up his hands as he approached. "It looks metal. That's a thing, right?"

"Yeah, whatever." She started pounding on a bike fender. 

"So. . ." He almost had to shout over the noise she was making.

"So what?" Allowing the mallet to drop from her hand, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Pointing at her hair and nose, he asked, "Why?"

Happy shrugged. "Why not?" He must have been giving off vibes of skepticism because she sighed. "I was hanging out with Anya last night and we got a little drunk and. . ."

"Oh, God, don't tell me. . . Wait. . . Do tell me. Everything. Ow!" Toby rubbed his shoulder where she'd whacked him. 

"Pervert." She jabbed her fingers lightly down his arm. "It wasn't like that. She wanted to put red streaks in her hair, and it sounded like a good idea at the time so I did it too." She shrugged as she pointed to the diamond stud above her left nostril. "Same reason for this. I'll say one thing about the Russians. They drink really good vodka."

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked gently.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know. You spent most of a week with this Anya and it seems like you two became fairly friendly. And because now she probably thinks you betrayed her by just pretending to be her friend."

"Well, you have it all figured out, don't you?" Happy snarled. "She was just someone to hang with, that's all." She picked up her mallet and resumed banging on the fender. He didn't believe her, of course, and he doubted she did either. But he had bigger fish to fry.

"All right then, moving on to the next touchy subject that will make you want to kick my ass." He hustled over to his desk and retrieved a folder. Taking a deep breath, he cautiously placed it in front of her.

"What the hell is that?" she growled, interrupting her hammering once again.

"I figured while you were busy saving the world, I could do a little research on your former spouse."

"Former spouse?" She set down the mallet with a thud.

"Yeah. It appears Bob the Mechanic sold his shop four years ago because he'd had a heart attack. He didn't survive the second one a couple of years later."

"Oh." Grabbing her welding helmet and torch, she put on the helmet before firing up the torch.

"Is that all you have to say?" Knowing he was risking his life, he flipped up the visor.

"What else do you want me to say?" She stared at him defiantly. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you, you dumb jerk."

All the air seemed to be sucked out of his lungs. "Yes?" he managed to croak out. Then panic seized him. "Oh, crap, I don't have the ring. It's. . ."

"We'll get it later," she said.

"I didn't know. . . You. . . The case. . ." Taking a deep breath, he calmed down enough to say, "I promised Ralph we'd light farts tonight."

"Seriously?" He couldn't tell by her expression if she was pissed or disgusted. "And you weren't going to invite me?" All his tension fled as her lips stretched into a smile and she flicked off the welding torch.

"I knew there was a reason I loved you," he said as they eased into each other's arms and kissed.

_____

"Are you hungry? I could fix something or we could order in or. . ."

Paige paused as she stepped just inside her bedroom. She'd left Walter propped up on her bed after helping him change into a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. As far as she could tell, he hadn't moved an inch since she'd gone to toss their dirty clothes in the wash. Wondering if the pain pill she'd given him ten minutes earlier had knocked him out, she noticed his eyes were open yet unfocused as he stared blankly at the opposite wall.

Concern immediately welled up inside her. "Walter? Are you okay?" she asked.

He didn't even blink before replying in a detached voice, "I'm fine."

How could he be? The turmoil of the last twenty-four hours had her head in a whirl. And she hadn't been shot. . .or nearly raped. She couldn't even imagine how he was processing it all. "No, you're not," she said matter-of-factly. 

Looking startled for a second, he rubbed his hand over his face. "You're right, I'm not." 

She had to sit down on the edge of the mattress, astonished he'd agreed with her. "Is it what happened with Zal. . .?"

"No. It's. . .uh. . ." His eyes were focused on the comforter as he traced his finger along the seams. "I'm sorry. I don't know, know how to say. . .to ask this. . ."

"Walter, you need to rest," she said, patting his uninjured leg. "We can talk later."

"No, I want to get this over with."

"Get what over with?"

"Us." 

Paige's mouth fell open. Oh, God, what did he mean by that? She must have made a sound because he lifted his gaze to meet hers, his dark eyes filled with panic.

"No, no, no, I didn't mean. . . That didn't come out right." Walter raked a shaky hand through his hair. "I need to know. . . I need to know if there is. . .if there is an ‘us'?"

"I don't understand," she said, her confusion plain in her voice. "Of course, there's an ‘us'. Why would you think there wasn't?"

Staring down at the bed again, he said, "The whole uncover operation seem so. . .so surreal. It was. . . I couldn't quite believe what you and I. . . What happened between us was real." Pausing to take a breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. "And now that we're facing reality again. . . I. . . You would realize you'd been caught up in the. . .the. . ."

"Unreality?" she supplied, her lips twitching..

He nodded. "Yeah." He raised his head to gaze at her. "And you would. . . You wouldn't want me any more."

"Walter," she began as she scooted over to sit beside him, reaching out her hand. He grasped it in his, relishing both its softness and strength. "Sweetheart, I've had feelings for you long before we were assigned this case. I can assure you what I feel for you is very real," she said, giving his fingers a squeeze. "What about you? Do you still want me?"

"Yes." He swallowed uneasily as she moved even nearer. "My-my-my feelings were. . .are real, too. I love you."

"I love you, too." Leaning over, she lightly brushed her lips over his. Her mere presence by his side had accelerated his respiration and set every nerve in his body on edge. As the kiss deepened, he glanced downward. Heat burned through him as it was plainly obvious how she affected him, the knitted fabric of his sweatpants hiding nothing.

"Oh. . . My. . ." Paige's eyes darted in the same direction, her cheeks glowing pink..

"Uh, um. . ." He began to apologize but the words stuck in his throat.

"No, it's. . ." 

An awkward silence ensued for a few moments. He watched, mesmerized, as Paige licked her lips. An irresistible force drew his mouth to hers the same moment she mashed hers on his. Her fingers slid up his neck, tangling in his hair as she tried to straddle him at the same time he was attempting to pull her onto his lap. It was clumsy and overwhelming and he groaned against her lips as she ground herself against him.

"Oh, God. . . I forgot. . . Your leg. . . Did I hurt. . .?" She attempted to pull away but he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to his chest. 

"It's fine," he cut in truthfully. It wasn't his wound that was aching, but an entirely different location. "That's not why. . .uh. . ."

"Oh." She kissed him again, tentatively moving her body up and down. "You're not still worried it's not real, are you?"

"I, uh. . ." He lost his train of thought as she slid her hands beneath his shirt. "I, um, I may need a bit more rea. . .uh, reassurance." 

Her fingers trailed down his stomach, slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. "More reassurance, huh?" she said with a smile before kissing his nose. "I can give you all the reassurance you can handle, mister."

And she did.

_____

**FIN**


End file.
